


Marry Me, Because I'd Like To Date You

by mintedpotters



Series: PTX Universe [2]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Proposal Fusion, Dubious Consent, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Mitch Grassi, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Canonical Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Rich Scott, Uncle Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 02:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10687821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintedpotters/pseuds/mintedpotters
Summary: a Superfruity Proposal fusion, we all know how that goes.---Scott Hoying is the under-appreciated assistant to Mx Mitch Grassi. What happens when Mitch's work visa is denied? Mx Grassi will do anything to keep his job; he would even coerce his poor assistant into committing fraud.





	Marry Me, Because I'd Like To Date You

**Author's Note:**

> As Mitch's character is written as genderfluid - and going on both Mitch's own tweets about his pronoun preferences, and my own experience as a genderfluid person - Mitch uses both he/him and she/her pronouns. I've tried to make it as clear as possible, but please let me know if you have any trouble with it. Thank you.

**(Note: the pronoun switches for Mitchell’s character are intentional: his character is genderfluid and uses both he/him and she/her pronouns)**

Scott woke with a groan and a long stretch. He sighed as he realized it was Thursday;  _just one day left..._ Opening his eyes at last, he blinked to adjust to the bright light filling his apartment-  _oh no._ He glanced at his alarm clock to see the red LED lights blinking, stuck at 12:00AM. With a feeling of dread, he unlocked his phone and saw the time.

"Shit!" He cursed. He was  _so_ late!

He rushed to get up and dressed, almost forgetting his shoes in his haste. Then it was a mad rush to try and get to the nearest Starbucks for his boss' morning coffee. His tardiness, however, meant the cafe was  _packed_ by the time he got there.

"Scott!" The voice of the familiar and friendly barista caught his attention, and he looked up to see her waving and holding a tray of two coffees, undoubtedly for him and his boss. Scott skipped the queue and dashed up to grab the coffees from her.

"You're a life saver, honestly. I owe you one!" He called as he dashed out of the coffee shop. Thankfully, the Starbucks he frequented was almost directly across the street from his offices; Koop & Lewis Publishing. He ran through the lobby and prayed to every deity he knew of that the elevator would be working today.

It was, and soon enough, Scott was on his own floor and heading fast for his boss' office.

"Late, again?" One of his workmates commented. Scott rolled his eyes and hurried to reply.

"Yeah, I know." He turned to keep walking, and collided with some idiot and his trolley. "COME ON! _Seriously?!"_ He shouted in annoyance as hot coffee - his  _boss' coffee! Shit!_ \- spilled all over his own shirt, staining it and his tie.

He threw the now empty - and crushed - cup in the trash, and rushed to the bathroom to try and dab up most of the mess before his boss got there. When it didn't work, Scott rushed back out and walked up to Jake, the workmate who had distracted him earlier.

"The shirt off your back. Literally." Scott said by way of greeting, nodding towards Jake's clean white shirt.

"Dude, seriously?" He complained.

"Yeah, seriously. I'll get you tickets to that festival this weekend, okay, just please!" Scott bargained. He knew they were running out of time; Mx Grassi would be there soon.

Jake finally relented and they switched shirts and ties quickly.

Scott's palms started sweating when he heard the inevitable group text being sent.

_It's Here._

Mx Mitchell Grassi had arrived.

He strode through the offices with the grace one acquires only by shoving a steel rod firmly up one's ass. Scott took up position inside his boss' office, coffee in one hand and a list of messages and appointment bookings rolling through his head.

"Coffee, boss." Scott said once Mitchell walked into the room. Mitchell took the coffee as he walked past Scott to his desk. "You have a conference call in 30 minutes-"

"Yes, about the marketing of the spring books; I know."

"There's a staff meeting at 9-"

"Did you talk to...? What's her name? The one with the ugly hands..."

"Janet?"

"Yes! Janet. Did you call her?"

"I did; I told her if she doesn't get her manuscript in by Monday, you won't give her a release date. Also, your immigration attorney called; he said it was imperative that--"

"Cancel the call, push the meeting to tomorrow, and keep the lawyer on the sheets. Also, get a hold of PR, have them start drafting a press release; Jenny's doing Oprah."

"Wow, impressive work."

"If I want your praise, I'll ask for it."

Scott nodded and started to leave the room, but a dainty 'ahem' from behind him had him freezing in place.

"Who is Allison? And why does she want me to 'call her'?" Mitchell asked mockingly, glancing between Scott and the cup in his hand.

"Well, see, that was my coffee-"

"Right, and  _I'm_ drinking it, because...?"

"Because yours spilled." Scott admitted.

"And you just  _happen_ to drink unsweetened soy café lattes?"

"I do, wouldn't you know it. My favourite kind."

Mitchell didn't look convinced, nor did he look amused.

"Is that a coincidence?" He asked, raising one neat eyebrow at the question.

"Incredibly, it is. I mean, I wouldn't just happen to drink the same coffee you do, just in case yours got spilled, because that would be incredibly pathetic-" The office's phone rang, and Scott moved immediately to pick it up. "Morning, Mx Grassi's office. Hi, Justin."

Mitchell sipped his coffee while Scott spoke to one of their colleagues. He held up one finger and pointed to the door, satisfied when Scott took the hint.

"Actually, we're headed to your office now." Scott spoke to the man on the other end of the line. The call ended shortly after, and Scott looked to his boss in confusion.

"Why are we going to Justin's office?" He asked. Mitchell didn't answer, but truthfully, Scott didn't expect him to. He decided to change the subject. "Did you read the manuscript I gave you?"

"I read some. Wasn't impressed." Mitchell replied shortly.

"I have read  _thousands_ of manuscripts for you, and this is the  _only_ one I've ever actually  _given_ to you." He pressed. "There is a great novel in there - the kind you used to publish!"

"Wrong. And I do think you drink the same coffee as I do, in case you spilled mine. Which is, in fact, pathetic." Mitchell said as he strode just ahead of him.

"Or impressive?" Scott suggested.

"I'd be more impressed if you managed to  _not spill_ my coffee in the first place. Remember, you're just a prop in here." Mitchell reminded as they reached Justin's office.

"Won't say a word." Scott muttered agreeably. He opened the door and let Mitchell pass him.

"Ah, our fearless leader and her liege! To what do I owe this honour?" Justin Shane asked as he busied himself straightening a pile of papers on his desk.

"Justin, I'm letting you go." Mitchell said. No preamble, as was her style. Scott tried not to show any outward signs of surprise.

"You're what?" Justin asked.

"I'm letting you go. I asked you to get Jenny on Oprah months ago, and you didn't do it." Mitchell clasped her hands in front of herself.

"But- Jenny hasn't done any press in almost twenty years." Justin defended.

"Funny, because I just got off the phone with her, and she's in." Mitchell tutted at Justin's bewildered expression. "You didn't even call her, did you?"

"I-"

"It's okay. I'll give you two months to find a new job, then you can tell everyone you resigned." Mitchell moved closer and patted his shoulder once, before withdrawing and moving for the door. Scott followed along behind her.

"What's his twenty?" Mitchell asked as they left.

"He's moving... he's got the crazy eyes again..."

"Oh, don't do it, Justin, don't do it-"

"You poisonous  _bitch!"_ Justin shouted, rushing out of his office to make a scene. "You can't  _fire_ me! I know what you're doing. Sandbagging me on this Oprah thing to make yourself look good in front of the board! Because I threaten you! And you are a  _monster!"_

"Justin, stop."

"Just because you have no semblance of a life outside of this office, you think you can treat us all like your personal servants! And I? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you'll have on your deathbed? Nothing, and no  _one."_ Justin finished, looking triumphant. The surrounding co-workers all looked on with interest. They knew Justin was about to get shot down.

Mitchell smiled, but there was no trace of pleasantry to be found. Scott knew Justin had overstepped massively, and he almost pitied the poor fool.

"Listen carefully, Justin. I didn't fire you, because I felt threatened." Mitchell paused to allow for Justin's scoff. "I fired you, because you're lazy, entitled, incompetent, and you spend more time cheating on your husband than you do in your office. Now, if you say another word, Scott here is going to have you thrown out." Justin opened his mouth to make some snide remark, but Mitchell wasn't finished. " _Another word,_ and you'll be leaving here with an armed escort; Scott will film the whole thing on his camera phone, and put it all up on the internet. Is that what you want?"

Justin was completely mute, as was most of the surrounding staff.

"Very good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." Mitchell turned on her heel and headed back for her office, Scott trailing along as usual.

"I need you here this weekend to help me review his files and his manuscript." Mitchell said as they walked.

" _This_ weekend?" Scott balked.

"Yes, do you have a problem with that?"

"It's just, it's my grandmother's 90th birthday. I was gonna go home and-"He caught the bored expression on Mitchell's face and changed his tune. "Never mind, I'll just cancel, it's fine."

Mitchell walked back into his office, and Scott stopped at the doorway.

"You're actually saving me a weekend of misery, so--" He noticed Mitchell wasn't listening anymore, and nodded to himself. "Great talk."

///

"I know, Mom, okay, tell Nonna I'm sorry, okay?" Scott sighed into the phone, as he listened to his mother complain about his job again. "What- Mom, what do you want me to tell you? She's making me stay here for the weekend. Yes, I'm sure Dad is pissed. No, Mom; Mom, I worked too damn hard for this promotion to just throw it away like that. We take all of our submissions around here very seriously, and we'll get back to you as soon as possible." He hung up just as Mitchell reached his desk.

"Your family?" Mitchell guessed.

"Yep."

"They tell you to quit?"

"Every damn day." The phone on his desk rang again, and he picked it up immediately. "Mx Grassi's office. Yes, okay." He put the phone back down and looked up at his boss. "Koop and Lewis want to see you upstairs."

"Ugh, all right. Come get me in ten minutes, we've got a lot of work to do."

"Alright."

-

"Darien, Jeremy, good morning."

"Good morning, Mx Grassi. Congratulations on Oprah."

"Well, someone had to do it." Mitchell smiled. "This isn't about my second raise, eh?" She joked. The men in front of her shared a tight smile.

"Mitchell, you remember when we agreed, you couldn't go to the Brisbane book fair, because you weren't allowed out of the country while your work visa was still being processed?" Darien asked her.

"I do."

"But you went anyway."

"Well, I had to, otherwise we would've lost Franco to Vikings." Mitchell justified.

"Mitchell, it seems the United Stated Government doesn't care who publishes what." Darien sighed.

"We just got off the phone with your immigration attorney-" Jeremy spoke up.

"So, we're all good? Everything's good?" Mitchell asked, only barely holding onto his stability.

"Mitchell, your visa has been denied-"

"Denied?"

"And you're being deported."

" _Deported!?_  Come on."

"Apparently, there was also some paperwork you didn't fill in on time?"

"Oh, come on! There's gotta be something we can do!"

"Well, you could reapply, but unfortunately, you will have to leave the country for at least a year." Jeremy told her.

"A year... wow. That's not ideal, but I suppose... I could still manage everything from Florence, with, um... videoconferencing..."

"Mitchell. Unfortunately, if you were to be deported, you can't legally work for an American company." Darien said. "Until this is resolved, I'm turning operations over to Justin Shane."

"Justin Shane... the guy I just fired?"

"We need an editor in chief, and he's the only person in the building with enough experience."

"You can't be serious! I beg of you-"

"Mitchell, we're desperate to have you stay. If there was anything we could do, we'd do it." Darien cut his gaze toward the door of the office, which opened enough for Scott to poke his blonde head in.

"We're in a meeting." Jeremy snapped.

"Sorry to interrupt, but, Mx Grassi?"

"What?"

"Evelyn, from Ms Winfrey's office, called. She's on the line-"

"I know."

"She's on hold. She needs to speak with you. I told her you were otherwise engaged, but she insisted, so..." Scott nudged his head in the direction of the hallway, giving Mitchell the escape she'd asked for. But something clicked.

_Engaged._

"Get in here." Mitchell hissed almost silently, gesturing for Scott to come stand beside him.

Scott shuffled into the room awkwardly, stepping up beside his boss.

"Gentlemen, I understand the situation we're in here. But there's, uh, there's something I need to tell you." Mitchell swayed slightly on the balls of his feet. She glanced briefly up at Scott, before continuing. "We're, um, we're getting married."

"Who is getting married?" Scott hissed.

"We are. We're getting married. You and I."

"We're getting married."

"Yep."

"Isn't he your secretary?" Jeremy asked.

"Assistant." Mitchell said.

" _Executive_ assistant." Scott said at the same time.

"Titles." Mitchell scoffed. "I mean, it wouldn't be the first time one of us fell for our secretaries, would it, Jeremy? With Alicia?"

Jeremy turned a rather odd shade of purple and looked down at his feet.

"So yes... The truth is, y'know, Scott and I are just... two people who weren't meant to fall in love, but we did."

"Yes, we did..." Scott agreed slowly, trying to figure out his boss' crazy plan.

"All the late nights, and the book fairs... something- something happened." Mitchell said, trying to sound like the doting fiancé.

"Something." Scott was not making the 'doting fiancé' role easy. Mitchell wanted to clobber him for his idiocy.

"Tried to fight it, but um, you can't fight a, uh, a love like ours. So, Are we good here? Are we happy with this? Because  _we-_ " Mitchell leaned into Scott's side briefly, patting his broad chest. "We are  _so_ happy."

"Very happy."

"Mitchell?" Darien spoke up, an amused smile playing on his face.

"Hm?"

"This is fantastic. Just make it legal, yes?" He tapped his ring finger, and Mitchell let out a very obviously fake laugh.

"Right! Legal. Got it." She chuckled awkwardly. "We need to take a trip to the immigration office and get this all sorted out. Thank you, gentlemen, we'll do that immediately."

Mitchell walked out of the office, with Scott once again, following behind. They reached Mitchell's office and Scott shut the door, trying to ignore the way all his colleagues had stared as the pair walked through.

"I don't understand what just happened." Scott finally said.

"Oh relax, this is for you, too."

"Oh? Do explain."

"They were going to make  _Justin_ chief editor." Mitchell sighed as though it was obvious.

"Oh, and naturally that means I would have to marry you." Scott said rather sarcastically.

"And what's the problem? Like you were saving yourself for someone  _special?"_ Mitchell's words practically oozed contempt.

"I'd like to think so. Oh, and the little detail that it's  _illegal?"_

"Please. They're looking for terrorists, not book publishers." Mitchell rolled his eyes.

"I'm not gonna marry you."

"Sure, you are. Because if you don't, your dreams of reaching millions of people with the written word, are dead. Justin will fire you the second I'm out that door, guaranteed. That means all the time  _we_ spent together - the late nights, the coffee runs, the cancelled dates - was all for nothing, and all your dreams of being an editor, are gone." Mitchell said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Stop pouting. After the required allotment of time, we'll get a quickie divorce and you'll be done with me. But for now, like it or not, your wagon is hitched to mine."

Scott sighed.

"Now, phone."

\--

They arrived at the Immigration Offices later that same afternoon. Mitchell took one look at the queue and tutted, before starting to stride along, cutting to the front.

"Hey, asshole, the line starts back there!" One man shouted as they passed. Mitchell ignored him and kept walking.

"Next!" The man at the counter called. Mitchell seized the chance and managed to slip in front of the next person.

"I'm sorry, this'll only take a second, I just need to ask him something!" Mitchell slipped up to the desk, once again ignoring the annoyed sounds behind his back. "Hi, I need you to file this fiancé visa for me." Mitchell placed the paper on the desk, sliding it across to the man.

He looked it over, then glanced back up to where Mitchell and Scott stood.

"Come with me."

"That was fast." Mitchell muttered, but followed behind the worker anyway. He led them to an office, and told them to wait for Mr Kaplan.

"Mitchell, I have a bad feeling about this." Scott muttered once they were alone. Mitchell just waved him off as she busied herself on her phone.

Soon enough, a young man joined them, no taller than Mitchell, who introduced himself as Avi.

"So, you're Scott Hoying, and you must be..." Mr Kaplan's voice was insanely deep; Scott swore he could feel his sternum shaking as he spoke.

"Mitchell Grassi."

"Mitchell. It's nice to meet you both."

"Thank you for agreeing to see us at such short notice." Mitchell smiled, trying to ramp up the charm, as if that would help.

"Of course. So, I only have one question for the two of you today. Are you both committing fraud to avoid Mitchell's deportation to Italy, and to allow Mx Grassi to keep her position as Editor in Chief at Koop & Lewis Publishing?"

"Why would you ask something like that?" Mitchell asked with a barely audible hitch in her breath.

"We received a phone tip earlier this afternoon from a-" Avi paused to rummage through the papers, looking for the note.

"Would it be Justin Shane?" Mitchell supplied.

"A Mr Justin Shane." Avi confirmed. Mitchell sighed, looking over to Scott as if to say,  _'We knew this would happen'._

"Justin Shane is nothing but a disgruntled former employee, and I apologise. I know you're all awfully busy, with a room full of gardeners and delivery boys to deal with. So, if you’ll just give us our next step, we'll get it done and be out of your hair." Mitchell grinned, already preparing to stand.

"Mx Grassi, Mr Hoying, let me explain to you the process that's about to unfold." Mitchell nodded and sat back down. "Step one; There will be a scheduled interview. I'll put the two of you in separate rooms, and I'll ask you every little question a  _real_ couple would know about each other. Step two; I dig deeper. I'll consider your phone records, your email history. I'll talk to your neighbours, your co-workers. If your answers don't match up 100% of the time?" Avi pointed to Mitchell. " _You_ will be deported indefinitely-" He turned to Scott. "And  _you_ will have committed a felony, punishable by a fine of $250,000 and a stay of up to five years in federal prison."

Avi leaned back in his chair, letting his clearly rehearsed story settle into their minds. Then he leaned toward Scott again.

"So, Scott. Wanna talk to me?" He prompted.

Scott shook his head at first, not entirely sure what he was doing.

"No?"

Then he started nodding.

"Yes?"

"The truth is..." Scott began, and he noticed Mitchell turning to face him. "Mr Kaplan, the truth is.... Mitchell and I, are just two people. Two people who weren't meant to fall in love, but we did. We couldn't tell anyone we worked with, because of my big promotion coming up."

"Promotion?" Avi echoed.

"Yes, promotion." Scott repeated, looking over at Mitchell, who thankfully took the cue and agreed.

"Yes, the promotion."

"We felt it would be inappropriate, for me to be promoted to Editor, while  _we_ were... um..."

"Yes... Deeply inappropriate." Mitchell echoed, his gaze turning steely at Scott's story.

"So, have the two of you told your families about your  _secret love?"_ Avi prodded.

"Oh, um, impossible. My parents died when I was young. No siblings, either." Mitchell shrugged.

"And you? Are your parents dead too?" Avi turned to Scott.

"No, uh-"

"We're actually going to tell Scott's family this weekend. It's Nonna's 90th birthday. The whole family is gonna be there. We were going to surprise them." Mitchell stepped in.

"Oh? And where does Scott's family live?" Avi honed in.

"Um, well, they live in... huh, why am I doing all the talking? They're  _your_ family! You talk about them." Mitchell shoved Scott lightly enough to look friendly.

"Sitka." Scott offered.

"Sitka." Mitchell nodded along. Scott hid his smile as he clarified.

"Alaska."

" _Alaska."_

"You're flying up to Alaska for the weekend?" Avi asked.

"Yep." Scott smiled now, knowing he had his boss dangling on a hook. And he'd be allowed to go home for the weekend. Something he hadn't been able to do since he began working for Mitchell Grassi.

"Yeah, that's where my little-" Mitchell placed a hand awkwardly on Scott's knee. "That's where my Scott's from. Alaska."

"Okay, I see how this is gonna go. I'll see the both of you, 11:00 AM on Monday for your interview." Avi reached under his desk and hauled out a thick binder. "Your answers better line up, or I'll take you both down. Got it?"

"Got it, thank you." Mitchell stood in a rush, already heading for the door. Scott shook Avi's hand and took the binder from him.

"Thank you."

"I'll be checking up on you." Avi warned.

"Okay."

Scott booked it out of the office after that, following his crazy boss.

They left the building, and Mitchell started leading them back up the street.

"Okay, so here's what's going to happen. We'll go up there, meet your family, pretend to be boyfriends, tell your parents we're engaged- Oh, use the miles for the tickets. I guess I'll pop for you to fly first class, but make sure you use the miles. If we don't get the miles, we're not doing it." Mitchell was typing away on her phone as she spoke, listing off demands and stipulations. "Please confirm the gluten-free meal this time, okay, because the last time, they gave it to a  _vegan_ and forced me to eat this gross, creamy salad thing and it was--" Mitchell looked up to see Scott looking ahead with a dead stare. "Hey, I'm- why aren't you taking notes?"

"I'm sorry, were you  _not_ in that room just now?" Scott asked incredulously. How in the hell could Mitchell be so damn CALM right now!?

"Hm? Oh, the thing you said about the promotion? Genius, he totally fell for it."

"I was serious. Mitchell, I'm looking at a fine of $250k and five years in prison. That changes things."

"Promote you to editor? No way." Mitchell scoffed.

"Then I quit, and you're screwed. Good-bye, Mitchell."

"No! Wait, no!"

"It really has been a slice of heaven-"

"Scott! Damnit, fine, I'll do it!"

"What?"

"If you do the Alaska weekend, and the interview, I'll make you editor."

"Not in two years. Immediately." Scott pressed.

"Fine."

"And you'll publish my manuscript."

Mitchell paused, considering her options. Eventually, he caved.

"Ten thousand copies-"

" _Twenty thousand_ copies, first run." Scott insisted. "And we will tell my family about our engagement  _when_ I want and  _how_ I want."

Mitchell pouted, but nodded nonetheless.

"Now, ask me nicely."

"Ask you nicely,  _what?!"_

"Ask me nicely, to marry you, Mitchell." Scott slid his hands into his pockets.

"You don't mean-"

"On your knee, Mitchell."

"Do you have  _any_ idea how expensive these pants were?!" Mitchell hissed at him.

"Yep. I was the one who ordered them for you, remember? On your knee. Go on." Scott said, loving this small amount of power. Mitchell huffed, but lowered himself his knees anyway, the tight jeans restricting his movement.

"Does this work for you?" Mitchell asked borderline rudely as she pushed her fringe out of her eyes.

"Oh, yes I like this." Scott laughed.

"Humph. Will you marry me." Mitchell rushed out. His knees were starting to hurt.

"No." Scott grinned. "Like you mean it, Mitchell."

The editor sighed and looked up at Scott with a pointed glare. Then covered it over with a fake layer of pleasantry.

"Scott."

"Yes, Mitchell."

"Dear, sweet, Scott."

"I'm listening."

"Would you please, with cherries on top, marry me?"

"Hm, okay. I don't appreciate the sarcasm, but I'll do it."

"Great." Mitchell reached a hand out so Scott would help him up. But the blonde ignored him and turned to leave.

"I'll see you at the airport tomorrow morning."

He walked away, leaving Mitchell to pick herself up off the dirty cement.

///

Friday morning, the pair were boarding their flight - first class, as promised - to Sitka, Alaska. After take-off, Scott took out the binder he'd gotten from Avi and began to look through the questions.

"Well, the good news is I know all of this about you. The  _bad_ news is you only have four days to learn all of this about me." Scott said as he flipped the pages.

"You know all of this about me?"

"Scary, isn't it?" Scott joked. Mitchell took the binder from him, and began flipping through it.

"Okay, what am I allergic to?"

"Gluten. And the entire spectrum of human emotion." Scott couldn't let the opportunity for that quip to slip away, so he took it.

"Oh, that was funny." Mitchell deadpanned. "Oh, here's a good one. Do I have any scars?"

"I'm pretty sure you have a tattoo."

"Oh, you're  _pretty_ sure?"

"Yeah. Two years ago, your dermatologist called, asking about a Q-switched laser. I googled it, and turns out they're used to remove tattoos. But you cancelled your appointment." Scott looked over his boss' form quickly. "So, what is it? Tribal ink? Gang signs?  _Barbed wire?"_

"Y'know, it's so exciting for me to experience you like this." Mitchell's forced smile dropped immediately, and he rolled his eyes.

"You're gonna have to at least tell me  _where_ it is." Scott mentioned.

"No."

"They're gonna ask about it."

"We're done with that question." Mitchell snapped. "On to another one. Let me see.... OH, here's one; whose place do we stay at, yours or mine? That's easy. Mine."

"And why wouldn't we stay at mine?" Scott asked sarcastically.

"Because I live in West Hollywood, and you probably live in some boring studio apartment, with stacks of old Penguin Classics."

_'LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS; WE ARE BEGINNING OUR DESCENT INTO JUNEAU'_ The tinny voice of one of the flight assistants screeched from the PA system, and Scott took the binder back and stashed it in his backpack, which he slid back under his seat.

"Juneau? I thought we were going to Sitka?"

"We are."

"Well, how are we  _getting_ to Sitka?"

-

The turbulence on the tiny aircraft was so bad, Mitchell thought the entire plane was going to shake itself apart. Thankfully, it was only a short flight. Soon enough, they were landing in Sitka, and Scott was watching out the window eagerly, a massive grin on his face.

They all climbed off the plane, and Scott was greeted with a loud cheer.

"SCOOTER!" One girl shrieked, before launching herself at Scott, who dropped his bag to catch her.

"Lauren, oh my god!" Scott swung the girl up off her feet. The pair laughed in a way that could be described as almost ecstatic. They clung to each other for the better part of a minute, before Mitchell felt uncomfortable enough to clear his throat loudly behind them. "Oh, right."

He put the girl down and gestured for Mitchell to step closer.

"Lauren, this is my b-boyfriend, Mitchell. Mitchell, this is my sister, Lauren." Scott introduced them, only barely stuttering over the title, and Lauren stuck out a hand to shake Mitchell's, who very reluctantly took it.

"It's so good to finally meet you! Scooter never shuts up about you." Lauren gushed.

"Really, now?" Mitchell asked, forcing a quick laugh, and looking up at Scott.

"Shut up." The blonde muttered, more at his sister than at his 'boyfriend'.

"Come on, Mitch, you've gotta meet the rest of the family!" Lauren grinned at the pair.

"It's Mitchell. I don't really like nicknames." Mitchell corrected Lauren.

"Oh, my bad. Sorry." Lauren took it in stride, leading the couple over to the rest of Scott's family.

"Mom!" Scott greeted once they were within talking distance. A short blonde woman rushed over, looking like an older version of Lauren. She, too, gathered Scott up in a hug.

"Scottie Bear!" The older woman gushed, sounding tearful as she embraced her son. She caught sight of Mitchell half-hiding behind Lauren, and was soon rushing to envelope  _him_ too. "Oh, you must be Mitchell! We've heard so much about you!"

Lauren introduced them this time.

"Mitchell, this is our mom, Connie."

"It's lovely to meet you, ma'am." Mitchell greeted formally.

"Oh pish, I'm hardly a ma'am of any kind. Call me Connie, dear."

"Okay, Connie." Mitchell muttered. Scott came back around to him after supposedly greeting the rest of his family.

"Alright, Mom, let her breathe." Scott laughed, although Mitchell was certain it was more at his own discomfort than at his mother's actions.

"Her?" Connie asked.

"Hm, oh, yes I forgot to tell you. Mitchell is genderfluid, so he uses two sets of pronouns. I'll explain it better later." Scott said.

"I don't mind which pronouns you use for me, Ma'am." Mitchell spoke up.

"That's a relief, I wouldn't want to offend you." Connie said earnestly.

"It's all right." Mitchell felt an almost real smile grace her lips. He tended to keep his identity ambiguous for the most part, just to stay on the safe side. In LA, it was never too much of an issue, considering, well, it was Los Angeles. Practically the Gay Capital of the world. But anywhere outside of his favourite city, Mitchell tried to keep everything secret. It was nice to feel so immediately accepted, even if it was all for a fraud. Right, the fraud. Back on track. "Thank you so much, for letting me be a part of this weekend."

"Oh, you're welcome. We're thrilled to have you." Connie answered happily. She led them all away from the airport and toward their cars.

On the walk, Mitchell found himself the centre of attention. He was introduced at last to Nonna Louise, who patted his cheek softly and welcomed him somewhat reluctantly.

Connie, Nonna, Scott and Mitchell piled into Connie's truck, while Scott's sisters, Lauren, and Taylor, drove ahead of them.

As they drove, Mitchell noticed a common theme.

_Hoying Electronics_

_Hoying Pharmacy_

_Hoying Book Exchange_

_Hoying_ this

_Hoying_ that

_Hoying,_ fucking everything.

"Scott." Mitchell hissed. Scott clearly didn't hear her, since his face was practically glued to the window, soaking in the familiar sights of his hometown. Mitchell tried again.

"Scott."

Still no response. Mitchell balled up her fist and punched Scott's thigh just hard enough to get his attention.

"God,  _what?"_ Scott hissed.

"You didn't tell me about all of the family businesses,  _honey."_ Mitchell snapped.

-

The truck parked beside a dock, and Mitchell looked around in confusion.

"What are we doing? I thought we were staying in a hotel?" She asked.

"Oh, we cancelled your reservations. Family doesn't stay in a hotel. You'll stay with us in our home; it's not like we don't have room." Connie laughed.

"Oh, okay." Mitchell nodded, and turned to see Scott unloading their luggage. "Be careful with that! It's Celine, remember? It cost me nearly $4000!" He snapped as Scott handed over Mitchell's black Celine tote bag.

"You and your  _brands,_ honestly." Scott muttered.

"It pays to look good."

"Yeah, how much does it  _cost?"_

Scott pulled the last of Mitchell's bags out of the truck bed, groaning as he straightened up again.

"You might wanna use your legs to pull this monster along." He whispered to Mitchell, picking up his own luggage.

"Scott! Help her with those!"

"I wish I could, Mom, but she doesn't let me do anything for her. Very self-sufficient." Scott nodded. "Besides, the plane was hell."

"Oh, okay." Connie and Nonna started walking toward the docks, where Lauren and Taylor waited, followed by Scott. Mitchell huffed and tugged his suitcase along behind him.

_I picked literally the worst day to wear my Louboutin's._ Mitchell groaned as the heels made it harder to walk along the gravelly ground.

"Come on, babe, let's go!" Scott called back cheerfully, and Mitchell decided to start planning his unfortunate death now, rather than later.

-

Walking down the dock was easier, even in heels as tall as the ones Mitchell had broken out especially for this trip. But then came the realization that she'd have to climb down a ladder to reach the boat.

A ladder.

In seven inch Louboutin’s, and a Maison Margiela chiffon dress.

Really.

Mitchell was going to absolutely  _murder_ Scott if they lived through this mess.

The rest of the Hoyings were down on the dock already, loading their luggage into the boat. Apparently, the sisters had their own boat that they'd take the larger suitcases in. Mitchell passed down his beloved Chanel luggage set, and watched as it was loaded up beside Scott's cheap blue suitcase and unbelievably cheesy cloud-print tote bag.

Then came the task of climbing down the ladder. Mitchell turned carefully, and lowered her first foot, trying to catch the rung.

Scott noticed the struggle his 'boyfriend' was having, and walked over to stand beside the ladder.

"Fancy coming down any time today, or...?" Scott prompted.

"I would, if I could find the damn ladder."

"I told you not to wear those shoes." Scott shrugged. "Just look down. You're not even that high up."

"Shut up, Hoying, I've got this." Mitchell focused all his energy on climbing down the ladder, and finally felt solid wood beneath her heels.

"Congratulations. We're all seventy years older."

"Shut up."

\--

The boat pulled up to another dock, this one beside a gorgeous house- or well,  _mansion_ was a better description.

"We're home!" Connie announced, looking up at the gigantic building with warmth in her eyes.

"Who are you people." Mitchell muttered to herself in the back of the boat. Thankfully, nobody heard the comment.

As they walked up the dock, Mitchell spoke up.

"Why did you tell me you were poor?" She asked Scott, rudely.

"I never said I was poor." Scott defended.

"You never said you were rich either." Mitchell insisted.

"I'm not rich. My parents are rich."

"Yeah, okay, see that's something only rich people say."

"Okay, boss."

"Scooter's home!" A voice yelled out from the house. Mitchell looked up to see a crowd of maybe fifteen people forming on the lawn.

"Hey!" Scott yelled back, clearly recognizing his friends. "Mom, what is all this?"

"Just a little welcome-home party. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"No, I guess not."

\--

After about thirty minutes of nonstop introductions, well wishes, hugs, and wistful remarks, they finally had a second of peace.

"Why didn't you tell me you were some kind of Alaskan celebrity?" Mitchell asked, annoyance shining clearly in her expression.

"Never had the time; we were in the middle of talking about  _you_ for the last four years." Scott snapped back.

"Okay, time out. This bickering shit has gotta stop." Mitchell pointed a long finger in Scott's face. "We need them all to believe we're in love, okay, so just..."

"Oh, I can do that, I can play the Doting Fiancé easily. That's no problem for me." Scott assured. "But for you, it means you'll have to stop abducting innocent puppies to turn into clothes."

"Very funny. When are you going to tell them that we're engaged?" Mitchell asked, setting a hand on her hip. At least she'd been allowed to change clothes; now his legs were sheathed in black jeans from Acne Studios, and matched with a button-up blouse by Saint Laurent. A quick touch up with hairspray and some nude lipstick, and she was done.

"I'll tell them when I feel like it's the right time." Scott, likewise, had gotten changed, but he'd gone casual where Mitchell had gone formal. He wore a pair of black jeans, with an over-sized red plaid shirt.

"Scott! Hi!" Another woman rushed at them, but this one didn't look related. She was a tall dark woman.

"Mrs Olusola! It's been a while." Scott greeted, embracing the woman. "Is Kevin here?"

"Oh, no, honey, I'm sorry. He had a charity event today in Juneau." Mrs Olusola said.

"It's all right, we're here all weekend. I'm sure I'll catch up with him at some point." Scott smiled anyway. "Oh, Mrs Olusola, this is Mitchell."

"Oh, it's lovely to meet you!" Mrs Olusola gushed.

"You too, thank you."

"So, dear, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly does a book editor do?"

"That's a brilliant question, and I'd like to know the answer as well." A man's voice cut in from behind them all.

"Dad, hey." Scott greeted.

"Son." Mr Hoying nodded before turning his attention to Mitchell. "This must be Mitch."

"Mitchell." Scott corrected.

"Rick." Mr Hoying shook Mitchell's hand before nodding again. "So, why don't you tell us what a book editor does, aside from taking writers out to lunch?"

"Oh, that sounds fun! No wonder you like being an editor, Scottie!" Mrs Olusola gushed.

"No, no, see, Mitch here is the editor-"

"It's Mitchell."

"Scott's just his assistant." Rick continued.

"Oh, so you're-" Mrs Olusola looked between Mitchell and Scott.

"Scott's boss, yes." Mitchell admitted.

"Huh. Excuse me, I'm going to grab something to drink." Rick left then. Scott rolled his eyes and followed his father out.

"One hell of a first impression, Dad." Scott said angrily.

"What the hell, Scott? You show up here after four years, with the guy you said you  _hated,_ and suddenly you're  _sleeping together?"_  Rick scrunched up his face in disgust.

"We just got here. Can't we at least wait until after dinner to throw the kitchen sink at each other?"

"Never would've pegged you for the sort to sleep your way to the middle, Son."

Scott felt his temper rising, not only to the crude accusations his father was tossing out, but the way they were spoken.

"I'll have you know, that  _guy_ out there is one of the most respected editors in Los Angeles."

"Oh, please. He's your meal ticket and you brought him here to meet your mother."

"No, Dad, Mitchell's not my meal ticket, he's my fiancé." Scott said.

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm getting married." Scott spun on his heel and left the room.  _Guess it's the right time._

"Excuse me? Everybody, I have an announcement to make!" Scott called out, drawing attention to himself. "Mitchell and I are getting married!"   
  
///

"Mitchell and I are getting married!"

Who knew six little words could invoke such a massive response?

Connie and Nonna burst into excited tears; Scott's sisters shrieked and ran up to hug him. Other assorted relatives and friends gave their congratulations. Then people realized Mitchell was nowhere to be seen. 

"Where's Mitchell? Mitchell?! Come here, babe." Scott called in an overly cheerful tone. Mitchell crept around the corner behind Scott. "Ah, there she is! Come over here, sweetheart."

There was a cooing chorus coming from everyone in the room when Scott looped his arm over Mitchell's shoulders, tugging the smaller man roughly into his side.

"You two are adorable. Congratulations." Nonna Louise gushed, grinning from ear to ear.

"Thank you, Nonna." Scott replied, a genuine smile on his face. Mitchell forced a smile onto his own face as well.

Champagne was passed around and light chatter built up around them again.

" _That_ was your idea of the 'right time'? Brilliant."

"Hey-!" 

"Scottie?" Scott turned away at the voice, and Mitchell swore the man in front of them was practically a sculpture brought to life. A few inches taller than Scott, with the same blonde hair styled neatly; big blue eyes, creased at the corners due to the massive smile stretching across his almost perfect face.

"Alex!? Oh, my god! What are you- I didn't know you were gonna be here!" Scott leaped forward and gathered the other guy up in a huge hug.

"Yeah, your mom thought it would be a good surprise." Alex grinned once Scott pulled back. Then blue eyes flicked down to Mitchell, and the light in them seemed to dim. "And we're being totally rude."

"Oh, shit, um, Mitchell, this is my ex." Scott stepped back so Mitchell could step forward and shake Alex's hand.

"Alexander; you can call me Alex, though." He grinned and took Mitchell's hand lightly.

"Nice to meet you." Mitchell greeted formally.

"You too! Congratulations, to the both of you!" Alex seemed like the type to never stop smiling, but Mitchell's cheeks were starting to hurt from the strain. "Did I miss the story?"

"The story?"

"What story?" Scott asked.

"Of how you proposed!" Alex elaborated, shoving Scott's shoulder lightly. He said it so loudly, Nonna Louise heard him and chipped in.

"The way a man proposes says a lot about his character, you know."

"I know, Nonna-"

"So, let's hear the story!" Alex cheered.

"Wow, um, okay, well.... Y'know what, Mitchell  _loves_ telling this story. So, I'm gonna let him take over." Scott copped out, essentially handing Mitchell the ticking time bomb.

"Wow, okay. So, Okay. Scott and I had been together for almost two years. I'd known for a while now that I wanted to marry him someday. So, I started leaving little hints every so often. Part of me thought he'd  _never_ notice them-"

"Trust me, I picked up her little hints. This man's about as subtle as a tank." Scott cut in. "I was trying to make it perfect, but Mitchell's a little snoop when he wants something, and I was always so worried that he'd find the box-"

"The box of lilies! That's right. See, he knew I loved lilies, so he bought one of those - you know, those boxed bouquets? One of those. And there was a white ribbon tied around the stems, and tucked under the ribbon, was a note. On the note, were four words: Where It All Began."

"Mitchell loves riddles, and the one thing he loves more than riddles, is coffee. I figured it was all too fitting to send him to the coffee shop where we met. It was one of those rare Californian rainy days, so I was holed up in the back corner of this coffee shop, and then who should walk in, but Mitchell." As Scott spoke, Mitchell found himself frowning slightly - that day wasn't made up; that was how they met. Mitchell remembered it as Scott talked. "My table had the only other empty chair, and I was so busy trying to finish editing my resume for the interview I had that afternoon, I didn't even notice when she sat down across from me. I only looked up when his jacket landed on the table." Scott paused and smiled, sparing a glance up at Mitchell with real warmth in his expression. "I think I got a little star struck when I realized who I was sharing a table with. I remember kind of stuttering out a 'hello' and then going completely red because my voice cracked."

"I remember sitting across from him and hearing that crack and just thinking 'this kid is adorable'." Mitchell added in, forcing himself to sound genuine and smile at Scott. It was a lie; he'd thought 'Oh god, what are you, twelve?' But there was no way on earth he'd tell Scott's family that.

"We didn't really talk much that time, but I showed up for my interview that afternoon and turned out Mitchell here was the one hiring. I honestly couldn't believe it when he said I was hired. I thought I'd totally blown the interview."

_You did, idiot._ Mitchell thought. Externally, he made himself smile wider.

"So now, you see why I chose the coffee shop to send him to." Scott nodded, signalling for Mitchell to pick up the narrative again.

"So, I got in my car and drove out to the shop, because we'd moved since that first meeting, obviously." Mitchell said, letting the implications of his words flow freely. "And I pulled into a parking space, and prepared myself. I thought he was going to end it, and that he was just trying to let me down gently." Mitchell sucked in a breath, calling on his years of community theatre as a kid. "But I sucked it up. I thought,  _if he's going to end it, I'm going to take it. I can deal with a break up._ So, I walked into the coffee shop, and inside, it was completely  _full_ of strings coming down from helium balloons on the ceiling. I pushed through it, and in the middle, there was Scott."

Mitchell walked over to stand beside where Scott was sitting, and reached out for his hand. Scott took it gingerly, not quite getting it.

"He was standing, inside a circle of flower petals, holding a little box." Mitchell sniffled, fanning her eyes as though the memory made her emotional. "When I reached him, he got down on one knee, and said-"

"Mitchell, will you marry me, and he said yep, and here we are." Scott finished quickly. Mitchell nodded, smiling at the crowd.

"That was so sweet!" Alex cried out, that annoying smile still in place, if not wider than before. "Hey Scottie, give him a kiss!"

"Aw, no, c'mon, no." Scott ducked his head, trying to look bashful.

"Yeah, come on! Kiss her!" Nonna chided.

"Nonna, I really-"

"Kiss him." Nonna repeated.

"Okay, okay! Geez. All right, ready?" Scott stood, and leaned down to press a kiss to Mitchell's cheek.

"Aw come on! What was that?!" Alex called out. Mitchell was really starting to hate that guy. "Give him a real kiss!"

"On the lips!" Nonna cheered.

"Okay, fine!" Scott held up his hands in defence. He leant in again and pecked Mitchell's lips quickly.

"I said a  _real kiss!_ That was how you kiss Nonna!" Alex yelled again. "Kiss him, kiss him-"

The whole room picked up the chant, progressively getting louder.

" _Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!"_

"Just get it over with." Mitchell sighed and turned his face up toward Scott's. Scott leaned in again, to the tumultuous cheers of his family and friends, and pressed his lips to Mitchell's. It was too tense, both practically rigid, but then Mitchell sighed, and it shifted. Their lips shaped to one another's, and Scott's hands came up to frame Mitchell's face.

After a few more seconds, they pulled away, and the entire room was still cheering. Mitchell thanked all his Italian genes for his darker skin, happy no one could discern the blush creeping up his cheeks. Scott, on the other hand, looked like he'd just been dunked in red paint.

Nonna Louise and Connie cheered the loudest, and Nonna got up to pull them both into a hug.

"I'm so happy for you two! So, so happy!" She cried into their chests. Scott rubbed her back, and Mitchell copied him awkwardly.

"More champagne!" Connie called out to the room at large, already waving around another bottle.

\---

"This is your room." Connie announced later that evening, showing them to what must've been Scott's old bedroom, if the framed photographs were anything to go by.

"Oh wow." Mitchell looked around the room in awe. It really was a gorgeous room. Floor-to-ceiling windows spanned one wall, bathing the room in sunlight. There was a massive King-sized bed in the middle of the room, covered in a mountain of pillows. A fireplace sat just to the side of the bed, and there were two adjoining bathrooms; one for the bath and shower, and the other for the toilet and sink. Between the two bathroom doors, sat a huge armoire.

"There's extra linen and towels in here." Connie told them, pointing to the large armoire in question.

"This is really wonderful, Mrs Hoying, thank you." Mitchell nodded. "So, where's Scott's bedroom?"

"Oh, honey, we're not under any delusions that you two don't sleep together. Scott will stay in here with you." Connie laughed.

"Oh, good, because we uh, we love to snuggle." Mitchell rambled, trying to fix up his blunder.

"Yep, we're total... cuddlers..." Scott agreed somewhat reluctantly.

"Well, we're gonna turn in. It's been a long day; even longer for you guys, what with the travelling." Connie nodded as she spoke, turning to leave the room. "Goodnight, boys." 

"Night, Mom."

"Night, Mrs Hoying."

The door closed, and the two men stayed dead still until they heard Connie's door close the hall.

"Oh, thank god, I thought my face would actually break if I had to keep smiling for much longer." Mitchell whined, stretching his jaw, and rubbing his face.

"Well, sorry hanging out with my family is such a hardship for you." Scott spat.

"Wow, okay, Mr Grinch." Mitchell rolled his eyes. "So, where are you sleeping?"

///

"So, you haven't been home in a while, huh?" Mitchell asked from the bathroom a little later.

"Well, I haven't exactly had a lot of vacation time for the last four years." Scott quipped.

"Oh, stop complaining." Mitchell rolled his eyes. "Um... don't look, okay?"

"Okay." Came the annoyingly calm answer.

"Are your eyes closed?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. They're closed." They weren't, but Mitchell didn't need to know that.

Mitchell slipped out of the bathroom and darted for the bed, dodging around Scott and his makeshift bed on the floor. Since he'd been counting on the hotel room, he hadn't packed pyjamas, and therefore was left to sleep in his boxers and an old shirt he'd brought for contingency matters.

"That's what you decided to wear to bed in  _Alaska."_ Scott mocked, having seen Mitchell's outfit choice.

"If you  _must_ know, I normally sleep naked. But I can't do that here. So, I made do." Mitchell huffed and buried himself deep in the duvets.

"Okay then."

"Look, can we just go to sleep?" Mitchell snapped.

"Fine."

\---

An annoying ringing woke Mitchell the next morning. It took him a second to realize it was his phone.

"Shit. Where is it!?" He hissed, slapping his hands everywhere he could reach, trying to find the damn electronic.

On the floor, Scott groaned.

"Scott! Scott,  _phone!"_ Mitchell hissed.

"Celine." Scott grumbled back. Mitchell located the bag in question and fell out of the bed to grab it.

"Hello?  _Hello!?_ Jenny! Hi! Jenny, hey, sorry, I can't hear you! No, I'm in Alaska! Jenny? Jenny!"

" _Oh, my GOD, Mitchell!"_ Scott snapped, having been woken up by Mitchell's ridiculously loud voice.

"Sorry!" Mitchell hissed. He wrapped a dressing gown around himself, and left the room. Scott gratefully slumped back onto his makeshift 'bed' and went back to sleep.

By the time Scott had woken up again and actually left his room, Mitchell was standing out on the lawn, looking very distraught.

"Scott? Is Mitchell allergic to anything? I wanna take her for lunch today." Connie asked as Scott ambled into the kitchen.

"Just gluten. But I know he doesn't like seafood, so maybe stay away from Claret’s?" Scott suggested.

"Aw, aren't you thoughtful!" Connie gushed. "Now, sit down. Nonna and I are making pancakes for the happy couple. Where is Mitchell anyway?"

"Uh, she had to take a phone call? I think he might still be outside. I'll be right back." Scott headed for the front door. He looked out of the large bay window by the door first and sure enough, he could see Mitchell's slight silhouette over by the lakeside.

He walked across the lawn toward his boss, surprised to hear a soft humming getting louder as he walked closer.

"Mitchell?" Scott called when he was within speaking distance. Mitchell spun on her heel rapidly, and the humming stopped.

"Shit, Scott, you scared me!" Mitchell hissed. Her eyes were red and glossy, and Scott found himself feeling worried.

"What's wrong?"

"Jenny just dropped off Oprah. She won't do it." Mitchell sighed in frustration. "I tried to convince her, but then I tripped over my own stupid feet, and my phone fell into the lake."

"Oh, that's all?"

"Yes, smart-ass, that's  _all._ What, did you think there was some family emergency or whatever? Forget I don't have a family?" Mitchell snapped.

"Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the coffin today, huh." Scott rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Listen, all right, I can order you a new phone - same number and everything - and we can go into town tomorrow and pick it up, okay?"

"Seriously?" Mitchell asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yeah. I've seen you without internet access. I'm not exactly eager to repeat the experience." Scott answered sarcastically, knowing Mitchell would pick up the reference.

"That wasn't even my fault! I didn't know the damn storm was going to cut off  _everything!"_ Mitchell exclaimed.

"Yeah, yes. I'll sort it out anyway. Oh, and you're going out with Mom and the girls today." Scott added.

"What? No! I have work to do!" Mitchell avoided.

"Yeah, on what? All your manuscripts are up to date - except mine, thanks - and everything else has been diverted to the other editors while we're here, remember?" Scott reminded him. "Besides, your phone's gone, and I told you to leave your tablet and laptop in LA."

"Yeah, well-"

"Nope, no arguments, you're going. They're taking you to lunch, and then shopping-"

"I hate shopping-"

"-And sightseeing-"

"I hate sightseeing-"

"And I know Lauren will want you to meet Landon before the day's out. They're bringing him here later this afternoon, so you're probably going to help go pick him up. Trust me, you'll love him." Scott grinned childishly at the thought of seeing his nephew - for the first time in person since he was born, no less. "Apparently, he's just like me."

"Right, that cancels out all chance of me 'loving him', then." Mitchell snapped back angrily.

"Now, come here and act like you don't want to rip my throat out with your vampire fangs." Scott reached out and tugged on the lapels of Mitchell's robe, pulling him in for a hug. "Gotta keep up the act, remember."

"Shut up." Mitchell grumbled as he let himself be hugged.

"Now, try not to be awful while you're out with my family, okay? They're not used to your 'humour' like I am." Scott warned. "Taylor especially. Take it easy on her, okay? She's had a rough time."

"You know I am actually capable of talking to people, right?" Mitchell rolled his eyes.

"Uh huh." Scott replied. "That's why I'm warning you. Not everybody has the hide of an elephant, you know." 

"I don't have a pachyderm hide, you prick."

"Pachyderm isn't even a word, you spoon."

"And you wonder why I wouldn't publish your manuscript!" Mitchell huffed in disbelief.

"What?!"

"Pachyderm, you idiot, is any large mammal with thick skin, like rhinos, hippos, and  _elephants."_ Mitchell snapped, slapping Scott's arm.

"Whatever, I've literally never heard that word before." Scott shook his head.

"Wow, how did you pass high school?!"

"Shut up, okay, I just woke up." Scott whined, embarrassment setting in as he realized, he had in fact heard of a 'pachyderm' before. Once, in a drunk spelling bee.

"Whatever."

"Anyway, you need to go get dressed. Oh, and Mom's making pancakes for breakfast, by the way." Scott suddenly remembered.

"Why the fuck didn't you just  _lead_ with that, then? Damn it, Scott." Mitchell huffed, walking back to the house. Scott rolled his eyes behind Mitchell's back before following him back up the lawn. 

\---

"See that building right there?" Lauren pointed at one point on their Girl's Day walk. "That was where Scooter was born, right on that top step there. It was really awkward."

"Oh, did that used to be the hospital?" Mitchell asked, interested despite herself.

"Nope. Music shop. Mom's convinced that's why Scooter was so into music as a kid." Lauren smiled. "He was born in the middle of a performance by this travelling band."

"That must've been, um,  _interesting."_ Mitchell said, cringing at the very idea.

"That's one way to describe it, for sure." Taylor, walking on Lauren's other side, chimed in.

"So, why do you call him Scooter?" Mitchell asked Lauren, intrigued to know the answer. It seemed an odd nickname.

"Oh, well, one Christmas, I got a scooter, and Scott got roller-blades. Guess Mom and Dad mixed our presents up, because the roller-blades were my size, not Scott's, and I've always hated scooters. So, we swapped, and I started calling Scott 'Scooter' because he would ride the damn thing everywhere. Like, literally everywhere. He never went anywhere without it." Lauren explained, smiling at the memories. "I guess it just stuck. We've all got a different name for him." 

"I call him Scooby. When I was little, he used to do this really good Scooby-Doo impression whenever I was sick or sad." Taylor piped up again.

"Mom, obviously, just sticks with calling him Scottie. But sometimes she calls him Scottie-Bear. Only ever to embarrass him, though." Lauren told Mitchell conspiratorially. "What do you call him?"

"Beanstalk, behind his back." Mitchell admitted. It was true; he really did. Especially in the first year that Scott worked for the company. Mitchell had a hard time believing anybody could be that tall. Scott was a good head taller than everyone else at the offices.

"That's cute." Lauren laughed. "He is stupidly tall."

"Yeah." Mitchell agreed.

"Oh, look! This was where Scooter--"

Mitchell zoned out, not all too interested anymore. He was sucked back into his thoughts, thinking about Scott, though he'd be loath to admit it. He thought back to the previous night, when he'd met Rick. The tension between Scott and his father had been thick enough to cut with a blade. Mitchell could feel a sense of disapproval radiating from the older Hoying as they had stood there talking. And when Scott had followed Rick into the kitchen... something felt  _off_ about it all.

"Lauren? Sorry to interrupt, but Scott won't tell me... What's the deal with him and his dad?" Mitchell asked abruptly.

"Sorry, hun, but if Scooter won't tell you, I won't either. It's his business, not mine." Lauren said, shrugging her shoulders, and moving on to the next fascinating Scott Hoying Origin Story.

Mitchell made up his mind; he'd ask Scott when they got back to the house.

///

**SCOTT**

While his family was out, Scott had been dragged out to the lakeside by his father, who was practicing his swing for the golf tournament next week.

"So, what's all this about?" Scott asked, picking up his own club and setting up a tee.

"Your mom found these online; biodegradable golf balls. They dissolve in water, or something." Rick said, as another ball found a watery grave. "Anyway, apparently, I wasn't the most gracious host last night."

_Understatement of the century, Dad._ Scott thought, with a roll of his eyes.

"And your mom was pretty pissed off about it, if I might say so." Rick struck another ball; it flew a few feet farther than the last, but still missed the island they were aiming at.

"I guess I'm saying... I owe you an apology. It was just a bit surprising to hear you're getting  _married,_ when none of us even knew you were dating." Rick said.

"Apology accepted." Scott nodded briskly, ready to let the subject drop. But of course, Rick had other ideas.

"Now, I've been thinking lately. I've been going over my retirement plans." Rick began. Scott put down his club, already knowing what his father was going to say. "I've done a lot of things in my life, Scott, practically built an empire here from nothing. But it doesn't mean anything unless-"

"Unless you have someone to leave it to, Dad, I know, we've been over this." Scott sighed.

"Well I'd  _like_ to go over it again!" Rick said forcefully, his voice slightly raised. "You have  _responsibilities_ here, son. I think I've been more than generous, letting you goof off in Los Angeles for the last few years, but it's time for you to stop playing around-"

"Oh, here we go again! Look, when are you going to take me seriously? Take my  _job_ seriously?" Scott asked, knowing it was a wasted effort.

"When will you start  _acting_ seriously?!" Rick practically shouted back.

"I'm so sorry, Dad, I'm  _so_ sorry you didn't have another son. One who  _wanted_ to stay and take over the family business. But newsflash, you've still got Lauren and Taylor, both of whom are perfectly capable of taking over. And I'm so sorry I'm not the type to marry someone you approve of - i.e., someone  _female_ \- but that's just me." Scott shut his father up, but he wasn't finished. "Now, I know it sounds weird to you, my life. Sitting in an office, reading  _books_ all day. But y'know what? It makes me happy."

"Well, if it makes you happy, then I guess I have nothing else to say." Rick said, sheepishly, as though by agreeing now, he could reverse the situation.

"That's a first, then. Y'know what? Apology  _not_ accepted. Have fun out here."

And with that, Scott walked back to the house. He only went inside to grab his headphones from his bag, and then he was off to the shed, finding the pickaxe with ease, despite the years. Once he'd found and sharpened the old tool, he walked out again, putting his headphones in and blaring his music as loud as possible as he walked toward the old canoe he'd started carving in his teen years. He hauled the old tarpaulin off the thing, and began hollowing it out again with heavy swings. The routine calmed him, and he eventually lost track of time as he worked out his anger.

**MITCHELL**

After lunch, Lauren and Taylor left to pick up Landon ("He's gonna need lunch and a nap before you guys get home." Lauren had said), and left Mitchell with Connie and Nonna Louise.

"Okay, we've got one thing left to do, and then we can head home, okay?" Connie said. "Now, this is a little different for us, because we've never really known a genderfluid person before, so we're sorry if this comes across as weird or - Lord forbid -  _rude,_ but we'd like to know; would you like to wear a dress or a suit for your wedding?" Connie asked very carefully.

"You're not being rude, it's okay, I just never really thought of it." Mitchell admitted. "I wear skirts and trousers fairly often... Is there a way I could try some things on, see what I'm more comfortable in?"

"Well, see, that's the one thing left. Nonna owns the biggest wedding supply shop in town, and she's the best seamstress. If anybody could find you something comfortable, it'll be her." Connie assured him.

"Oh, good." Mitchell nodded, trying to swallow the sudden lump in her throat.

"Don't worry, dearie, I'll make sure you look wonderful. You're gonna take that boy's breath away when we're done." Nonna Louise reached a wrinkled hand across the table and laid it over Mitchell's.

\---

A little while later, Mitchell was in the dressing room of Nonna's shop, buttoning a dove grey blazer over a white button-down suit shirt. The shade of the blazer matched the straight-leg pants he wore, and instead of tying the dark grey tie, Mitchell simply draped it over his shoulders. He slipped his feet into a pair of black dress shoes and stepped out of the dressing room, to face Connie and Nonna's judgment.

"Well?" Mitchell asked nervously.

"You look so handsome!" Connie gushed immediately.

"Connie, you said that about the last five suits too." Nonna reprimanded.

"But he looks handsome in them all!"

"That's true. But, I must say, grey fits best." Nonna commented as she straightened Mitchell's jacket. "Doesn't feel too tight?" She asked as she inspected the pants.

"Fits like a perfectly tailored glove." Mitchell answered.

"Turn." Nonna commanded, and Mitchell was quick to obey.

"Hm, very nice." Nonna nodded in approval. "Would you like to try any dresses while we're here, or is the suit good?"

"If I try the dresses, won't I need, like, breasts?" Mitchell asked.

"Not if we find the right dress. But if you're comfortable enough in the suit, it doesn't matter."

Mitchell thought on it for a second, and then looked up at Nonna.

"Let's find the right dress, then."

\---

A half hour later, Mitchell was standing in front of a full-length mirror, in a floor length white gown. The sleeves were made of lace and sat off-shoulder, ending just above the wrist. The neckline sat an inch or two below Mitchell's prominent collarbones, and he once again cursed his 17-year-old self for getting such a large, dark tattoo in such an obvious place. Looking down at his arms, he also muttered a curse to his 20-year-old self for the smattering of ink he'd gotten along his forearms.

"I can cover these up with makeup, don't worry." Mitchell had assured Connie, when the latter had seen exactly how many tattoos Mitchell had been hiding away under his clothes.

"Don't. They're part of you. Show them off proudly." Connie had told him firmly.

The bodice of the dress pulled in slightly, giving the illusion of curves on Mitchell's small frame. The skirt billowed out, a cone of lace and satin.

Mitchell now stood facing the mirror, while Nonna and Connie fussed about, fixing hems and straightening the neckline repeatedly.

"You look absolutely beautiful, Mitchell." Connie whispered once the finished, standing back and admiring her son's fiancé.

"Connie, I-"

"No, hush, you look  _beautiful,_ and Scott is absolutely going to  _die_ when he sees you." Connie insisted.

"Okay." Mitchell breathed, not having the heart to argue.

"Perfect. Just one final touch, and you're done." Nonna said, walking away from them. She came back quickly, holding something in her hands. "This was handed down through the ages in this family; my great-grandfather gave it to my great-grandmother on their wedding night. Since then, it's been passed down to every Hoying woman before their wedding." Nonna gestured for Mitchell to turn back to the mirror, and soon, soft hands were wrapping a short golden chain around Mitchell's neck, a small blue stone falling into the hollow of Mitchell's throat. The colour reminded him of Scott's eyes, but Mitchell shoved that thought away hurriedly. 

"I know you're not a woman, Mitchell, but the necklace suits you, much like that dress does, and much like Scott does. I know, in my heart of hearts, that you and my grandson were meant to fall in love." Nonna said, sincerity filling every syllable. "Now, you take care of him, you hear? He's thick-headed sometimes. Can be so stubborn."

"I know, Nonna. I'll take care of him, I promise." Mitchell answered. A twinge of guilt sprung up in her gut at the lie, knowing all of this was a sham. God, this was all fake, just so Mitchell could stay in the U.S, and here was this sweet, loving family, ready to welcome him in, and Mitchell was  _lying to them..._

"Y'know, Mitchell, I was thinking..." Connie spoke up, holding a cup of tea in one hand. "Maybe, for Christmas this year, we could come down to Los Angeles. Spend the holidays with you, you know?"

"Or maybe Scott and I could come here?" Mitchell suggested, her heart twisting even tighter.

"I'd really like that. I'd like that a whole lot." Connie said, her eyes wet.

Without warning, Mitchell felt her own eyes fill with tears.

"Oh, honey, what's the matter?" Nonna asked immediately.

"It's nothing, just, um... I, uh, I don't have much of a family left anymore, so it's been a while since I've had a family Christmas. It sounds really lovely." Mitchell confessed.

"Oh my, Mitchell, sweetheart, you're a Hoying now, okay? You've got a family now, I promise you, and you're always gonna be welcome here." Connie assured her, holding Mitchell's hand tight. Mitchell couldn't speak for fear of bawling like a baby, so she just nodded, and felt Connie squeeze her hand comfortingly.

"Now, now. Let's stop all these tears, hm? We'll be wanted back at the house soon. Let's get this all sorted out before we head back."

///

When Connie, Nonna Louise and Mitchell finally got back to the house, they were all smiling, and not even Mitchell could pretend to be having a bad time.

"And then he  _steps on the ball!"_ Connie was saying, telling some story about Rick. She looked back over to the house to see Scott still hacking away at the canoe.

"Oh, no..." Connie sighed, the smile dropping from her face.

"What's going on?" Mitchell asked worriedly, seeing Scott as well.

"He's having a moment, honey, best to leave him to it." Nonna warned him. "His music will be too loud for him to hear any of us for a while." Nonna took hold of Mitchell's wrist and pulled her along to the house.

Once inside, Connie stormed over to her husband, who was sitting on the couch, watching some game on TV. Mitchell hovered awkwardly in the next room, having been left by Nonna. Mitchell listened instead to Scott's parents, curious to understand what could've made Scott's mood change so drastically since that morning.

"Hey! I was trying to watch that!" Rick protested when the TV was turned off.

"Why is my boy out there hollowing out that stupid canoe again?" Connie asked, deathly calm.

"How should I know? Maybe he's planning to escape." Silence. "What?!"

"I am so  _tired,_ Rick. I'm so tired of this! What did you do!?" Connie asked, anger apparent in her tone now.

"Nothing!"

"Hah!"

"I just had a frank discussion with him about his future-"

"Oh, that's brilliant. That's just excellent. Because now he will  _never_ come home again!" Connie shouted. "I see my son ONCE every  _three years,_ Richard! Because of  _you!"_

"I don't-"

"No, I've had enough! You are going to be supportive of this. You're going to be supportive of Scott marrying Mitchell, and that is that." Connie huffed, and Mitchell could picture her pushing her hair from her face angrily. "You know, if we aren't careful, we're going to end up in this great big house alone. Just you and me, and everything that we're angry at. And heaven forbid, they ever have a  _grandchild_ that we never get to see! You're going to fix this, Rick. I mean it. Fix it now."

Mitchell rushed up the stairs before Connie could see he'd been eavesdropping. He paced his room a few times before making a decision.

_I need a bath._

He took his bath bag and headed straight for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and relishing in the routine of drawing a bubble bath. He slipped into the smooth water, immediately relaxing. He sighed contently and leaned back in the large tub, closing his eyes.

-

Mitchell woke a little while later to the sound of a door slamming shut.

"Hello?" He called cautiously; chances were it was just Connie looking for him again, or Scott. There was no response, so Mitchell figured whoever it was had been leaving the room.

_Scott, then._ Mitchell decided.

Either way, he knew it was time to get out. His fingers looked like Nonna Louise's, all wrinkled. He drained the bath and rinsed himself off under the shower. Then he stepped out of the tub and reached for the towel rack, only to have his hand close on cold metal. Mitchell looked over, finding the rack completely empty.

"No, no no no..." Mitchell whispered. "Towel? Towel... Towel...." She looked in the cupboard under the sink, in the hamper by the door, everywhere. But there was no towel to be seen anywhere. "Shit!"

He cracked the bathroom door open an inch, and looked out to make sure nobody was in the room. He just needed to get into the armoire. Once he was certain he was alone, he pulled open the door further, using his bath bag to cover his decency.

He shuffled about so his back wasn't facing the door, lest anybody walk in, but when he turned back to open the cabinet, he collided with something large, warm, and very,  _very naked._

Scott and Mitchell collided, and - due to Scott's momentum - fell back until Mitchell was trapped between Scott and the floor, his bath bag dropped somewhere to their sides.

There was a moment of pure, shocked silence, and then-

"OH, MY GOD!"

"WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!

"WHY ARE  _YOU_ WET?!"

"OH, MY  _GOD! COVER UP!"_

"DAMN IT WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

"GOD YOU'RE SHOWING EVERYTHING COVER IT UP FOR THE LOVE OF-"

"ME COVER UP?!  _YOU COVER UP!"_

It was a mad scramble to get as far away from each other as possible; Mitchell practically leaped over to the bed, covering himself with the duvets, while Scott cowered beside the armoire, using a towel he'd managed to pull out of the huge piece of furniture.

" _Explain yourself!"_ Mitchell hissed.

"Explain myself?!" Scott balked.

"Yes,  _explain yourself!"_

"I was outside-!"

"And you didn't  _hear me?!"_ Mitchell exclaimed, gesturing with his free hand.

"I was listening to- What are you even doing home!?" Scott asked equally loudly.

"Get out of here! Go take a shower, you stink." Mitchell threw a cushion at him, needing him to just  _leave the damn room_ already.

He did, slamming the bathroom door behind him, and Mitchell slammed her head onto the mattress beside her.

\--

Later that night, they both lay in their respective beds, the awkward silence stretching between them even more palpable than before since The Incident.

"So _naked..."_ Mitchell heard Scott mutter.

"Yeah, can we not talk about that." Mitchell snapped.

"Just saying." Scott sounded like he would've shrugged.

"So," Mitchell cleared his throat. "What's the deal with you and your dad?"

"Oh, dang, I'm sorry, that question is  _not_ in the binder." Scott answered, trying to shut down the conversation.

"Hey, you're the one who said we needed to know  _everything_ about each other."

"Not about that, I didn't." Scott said sharply. "Goodnight."

"But if Avi asks-"

"Not. About. That. Mitchell." Scott snapped loudly.

A few minutes of silence followed, and Mitchell wondered if Scott had fallen asleep. He cleared his throat again, hoping Scott was asleep. But just in case...

"I like the Pitch Perfect films." He confessed.

"What?" Came the confused response.

"Not in the 'oh, isn't that typical, he likes that stuff' kind of way. I genuinely enjoy them." Mitchell thought for a second, coming up with more facts he knew Scott didn't know about. "My first concert was Kelly Clarkson with my best friend in Texas when we were sixteen. Um... I took French language lessons for three years, because I convinced myself I'd live in a studio apartment in Paris before I turned twenty. I don't remember any of it. Um... I had a YouTube channel when I was 20, I used to sing a lot more. My guilty pleasure is ASMR videos, I tend to binge on them. Haven't slept with a man in about two and a half years. Haven't been on a  _date_ with a man in three years. And I went to the bathroom and cried after Justin called me a poisonous bitch." Mitchell stopped, taking a breath. Then thought of another one.

"And the tattoos? The one on my chest I got when I was seventeen. It was a dare from the boy I had a crush on. Said if I got Deadmau5 tattooed on my chest, he'd sleep with me. When I got it done, he laughed and said he had a bet running with his friends to get me first, and I've hated it ever since, but I refuse to get rid of it. The ones on my arms were from my 20th birthday. I don't even remember most of it. I know I got them before I started drinking, though. I remember that much." He stopped again, and this time didn't keep going.

There was complete silence coming from Scott, so Mitchell called out quietly.

"You there?"

"Hm, here. Just processing." Scott answered. Then he spoke again. "You really haven't slept with anyone in over  _two years?"_

"Oh, my god, out of all that,  _that's_ what you got?"

"That's a really long time..." Scott mused.

"Stuff it."

"Who's Kelly Clarkson?"

"Kelly? You don't know?" Mitchell scoured his memory, trying to drag up an old Kelly song that he  _knew_ Scott would've heard before. "Y'know, um... how's it go again... oh;  _Grew up in a small town// And when the rain would fall down// I'd just stare out my window// Dreaming of what could be// And if I'd end up happy// I would pray..._?" Mitchell sang it quietly, just barely loud enough for Scott to hear him. It'd been years since he sang properly, so long that he barely missed it.

He heard Scott's light laughter drifting up.

"What?"

"No, I know who she is. She's still massive in the industry, remember? I just wanted to hear you sing it."

"You're unbearable." Mitchell groaned.

They fell silent again for a moment, and then it was Scott clearing his throat to speak.

"Mitchell?"

"Yes?"

"Don't take this the wrong way. But you are very,  _very_ beautiful."

"Okay."

"Okay." Silence again, then; "Remember this one?  _Oh sweetheart, put the bottle down // You've got too much talent // I see you through those bloodshot eyes // There's a cure you've found it..."_ He sang from the floor. Mitchell laughed and listened. Scott had a surprisingly good voice.

_"Slow motion sparks // You caught that chill // Now don't deny it // But boys will be boys // Oh yes they will // They don't wanna define it // Just give up the game and get into me // If you're looking for thrills then get cold feet..."_

Mitchell laughed again and joined in for the chorus, mildly surprised at how easily he found the harmony to Scott's voice.

They sang and laughed until their notes became drawn out yawns, and they both drifted off to sleep at last with smiles on their faces.

///

The next morning, Mitchell was woken by a loud knocking on the door. He jolted awake abruptly and sat up straight in the pile of duvets.

"Good morning! Room service for the happy couple!" Connie's voice rang through the door.

"Shit." Mitchell hissed. "Scott! Scott, get up!  _Scott!"_ Mitchell grabbed one of the pillows surrounding him and threw it full force at his sleeping 'fiancé'. The blonde jolted awake, and looked up at Mitchell questioningly. "Your  _mom_ is at the  _door!"_ Mitchell hissed. "Get up here!"

Scott rushed about to pick up his makeshift bed and jump into the actual bed with Mitchell.

"How in the-"

"Just, I don't know, spoon me or something." Mitchell whispered angrily and lay facing away from Scott, only to jump away once the blonde had settled flush against his back. "That had better not be what I think it is." Mitchell warned.

"It's  _morning,_ Mitchell, what'd you  _expect?!"_

"Fucking... Sit up. Sit up!"

"Hello, y'all awake in there?" Connie called again.

"Just a minute, Mom!" Scott hollered. He sat up against the headboard, and raised his arm to make a space for Mitchell to fit against his side.

"Alright, come on in!" Scott called once the pair had settled into a not-too-awkward position.

"Morning, lovebirds!" Connie greeted cheerfully as she set down a tray of what looked like cinnamon rolls and a jug of orange juice.

"Morning, Connie." Mitchell returned, a genuine (albeit slightly uncomfortable) smile on her face.

"Morning Mom." Scott smiled.

"Good morning!" Nonna Louise called as she walked in as well.

"Morning Nonna." Scott and Mitchell said in unison.

"Got room for one more?" Rick's voice joined the fray, and Mitchell could feel Scott's entire body tense up.

"Wow, can we save the family meeting for later, Dad? Mitchell and I just woke up." Scott said, not even hiding the bitterness in his tone.

"Okay, hear me out, though." Rick held his hands up in surrender. "Your mom and I have come up with a proposition for you, and I think it's a great idea-"

"We want you to get married here, tomorrow." Connie cut in, stepping even closer in her excitement.

"What? No, we can't-"

"It's Nonna's birthday tomorrow, we can't-"

"Oh, please. I've had plenty of birthday parties. I don't need another one." Nonna waved them off. "Besides, I have a checklist. And since your sisters are both married already, you're the last one. It would make me so happy to be at your wedding."

"Nonna, I really-"

"Will you do it?" Nonna asked, cutting off Scott's sentence before he could finish it. He and Mitchell hesitated. "Before I'm dead?"

"Okay, okay. We'll get married tomorrow." Scott answered hurriedly.

"Good! Oh, this is such a good day." Nonna smiled happily.

"Okay, listen, we will take care of everything, okay? Your job is just to relax and enjoy each other today. You can get married like we did, in the greenhouse." Connie rambled excitedly.

"You guys have a greenhouse? I didn't get to see it!" Mitchell whined. "I'm sure it's gorgeous, Connie. I've always wanted to get married in a greenhouse." She assured her future mother-in-law.

"Oh, good." Connie gushed. "Well, we'd better get started. Oh, and Scottie? Kevin's back in town; he called this morning. Something about a phone for Mitchell?"

"Oh, awesome, thanks Mom." Scott smiled. "We'll go see him later."

"Okay. Well we're gonna go. This is such good news." Connie grinned happily as she left the room, Nonna and Rick in tow.

As soon as the door closed, Scott started shaking.

"Oh, my god... When my mom finds out this whole thing is a sham... She's gonna be ruined. And Nonna! Nonna will have a damn aneurysm!" Scott panicked.

"Shh, Scott, they're not going to find out-"

"And my  _dad_ , what was that?! The whole 'get married here' thing?! What  _was_ that!"

"Your mom probably talked him into it, calm down, Scott-"

"They're gonna kill me when they find out. I've been lying to them for this damn long, I can't--"

"Hey, shh, listen. They're not gonna find out, okay. Shh, you're okay. Look, it's not like we're gonna be married forever." Mitchell reassured Scott, turning to seat himself in Scott's lap and reaching up to massage his shoulders gently. Scott's hands instinctively reached for Mitchell's waist, fingers digging in slightly. "We'll get a divorce and be done with it, remember? You're gonna be okay."

Eventually Scott stopped shaking, but Mitchell was still running his hands over Scott's broad shoulders. Still sitting in his lap, with Scott's huge hands practically encircling his waist.

"You all right?" Mitchell asked, seeming satisfied now that Scott wasn't shaking like a leaf anymore.

"Yeah. Thanks." Scott nodded back, looking slightly awkward now that he registered their position. "So, breakfast?" He coughed, an obvious attempt to change the topic and pulled his hands away to put some space back between them.

"Yeah, I'll grab it." Mitchell climbed out of bed. Scott watched as he stretched and relaxed, seeing how the over-sized shirt's hem fell to cover his underwear. Mitchell picked up the jug of juice first and poured out a glass for Scott, then himself. He carried the drinks over to the bedside table, then went back for the plate of cinnamon rolls.

"No, you're right." Scott agreed once he managed to remember he shouldn’tbe watching his boss walk around practically naked. He blushed when he remembered that Mitchell had been sitting in his lap like that not even five minutes ago. His gaze snapped to his hands in his lap when Mitchell looked at him. "We'll be happily divorced before we even know it. You're right."

"Exactly." Mitchell agreed, and handed Scott his glass of juice, waiting until he put it down on his side of the bed. "But Mommy here should learn to cook. Gotta keep her man happy. Wouldn't want him leaving me for another girl, hmm?" Mitchell teased, passing over the plate of cinnamon rolls. Scott gripped the other end of the plate, but Mitchell didn't let go immediately.

"C'mon, I haven't left you yet, Mitchell." Scott teased back. He tugged lightly on the plate, but Mitchell held fast. "Let go of the plate, I've got it."

"Right, sorry." Mitchell said, dropping his grip as if the plate had burned him.

"You okay?" Scott asked.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine. I, uh, I'm gonna go."

"What? Where?"

"Outside. I'm just gonna go, outside, for a walk. I'm fine." Mitchell said awkwardly as she scrambled off the bed, not realizing she was heading for the bathroom until Scott pointed it out. "Yeah, no, I'm gonna go to the bathroom first, and then go outside. Okay."

Mitchell ducked into the bathroom and practically slammed the door shut behind himself. He leaned his back against the door and sighed heavily.

_Just a job, just a job, just a job...._ He chanted to himself, willing himself to calm down. There was no way he was gonna go and freaking  _fall_ for this guy, not now. This was a  _sham,_ a fraud, a trick, a con. A business deal.

Just a business deal.

///

Scott used Mitchell's absence to his advantage after the latter left, to get some sleep in a real bed for the first time since leaving LA.

He woke up again a few hours later and got dressed before heading downstairs to scrounge up some food. Just before he walked into the kitchen, he heard voices; specifically,  _Mitchell's._ And then, a small child's laughter. Landon. Scott stopped at the edge of the room, and peeked in to observe the scene.

In the kitchen, Mitchell was singing and swaying around with Landon in his arms, holding up one of his hands as though they were waltzing together around the kitchen. Lauren, Connie, and Taylor all watched with matching grins as Landon squealed and giggled as Mitchell spun them around. They all looked so happy, and Mitchell.... well.

Mitchell looked like he was glowing. A smile larger than any Scott had ever seen lifted his entire face and made his eyes sparkle. His hair was pulled up into a knot, the way he kept it when he couldn't be bothered to straighten and style it. He wore a colourful striped sweater that Scott had no doubt probably cost thousands from some fancy designer person he'd never heard of, and a pair of skin-tight black jeans. Add that to the practically angelic voice escaping the small man, and Scott was a goner.

Scott found himself mesmerized by Mitchell but even he couldn't stop the laugh that burst forth when Mitchell 'dipped' Landon at the end of the song. Everyone turned to look at him and Scott scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Morning then." Scott greeted, embarrassed at being caught.

"Morning, Beanstalk." Mitchell greeted, walking over to him. "Look, angel, it's Uncle Scott!" Mitchell said to the toddler in his arms. "Wanna give him a hug?"

"No." Landon pouted, little fists gripping tightly to Mitchell's sweater. "Want Uncle Mitchie."

"Wow, I see how it is, bud. No hugs for your uncle Scooter.... I get it... You love Mitchie more than me..." Scott played along, pulling an even bigger pout.

"No! I love you!" Landon laughed. His little hands reached out and made grabby motions in Scott's direction.

"No, I get it! I understand! You don't love Uncle Scooter as much as you love Uncle Mitchie!" Scott amped it up, pretending to cry.

"Uncle Scooter, stop being silly." Landon insisted. "I love you the SAME as Uncle Mitchie!"

"Promise?" Scott asked, making his blue eyes as big as possible.

"PINKY promise!" Landon said proudly, holding out one hand with his pinkie finger extended. Scott wrapped his own pinkie around his nephew's, and then abruptly scooped Landon out of Mitchell's arms. "See! I love you." Landon grinned.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Scott whispered to the smiling little boy. "I love you more."

"Nuh uh!" Landon giggled again.

"Yeah!" Scott insisted, nuzzling his nose against Landon's.

Scott was so caught up in reuniting with his nephew, he didn't even notice the fond smile spreading across Mitchell's face. Lauren noticed, however, and the final shreds of reluctance at her brother's sudden engagement finally slipped away. Surely, anybody who looked at Scott Hoying like that deserved to be with him. As the oldest Hoying sibling, Lauren had felt the most betrayed by Mitchell's sudden 180* shift in Scott's life, considering she had received near daily texts about 'The Nightmare of Sunset Boulevard'. But after having spent the weekend with them together, Lauren finally felt at ease.

"Mitchell?" Lauren called him over. "Take a walk with me?"

"Sure." Mitchell agreed. "Do I need to go get my shoes, or...?"

"Nah, we're just heading to the docks." Lauren assured him.

"Okay, awesome." Mitchell reached out and tapped Scott's elbow lightly, almost as if on instinct. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Hey, baby, Uncle Mitchie loves you most." Mitch turned his attention to Landon again as he spoke the last part, smiling tenderly at the kid.

"I know. But you love Uncle Scooter the  _mostest!"_ Landon laughed. Mitchell blushed but nodded, remembering their audience.

"Get outta here, babe." Scott murmured, turning his head to kiss the top of Mitchell's head, still playing his role.

"Okay, I'm going." Mitchell said, throwing her hands up and walking back to Lauren's side. "Let's go."

\--

**SCOTT**

"You two seem a lot more affectionate today." Connie pointed out.

"Good moods, I guess. Now that the wedding is so soon, Mitchell's not stressing about it as much. He always worries about everything too much." Scott shrugged, a smile on his lips regardless.

"I know, honey, you used to call me in a temper about it, remember?" Connie prodded.

"Oh, Mom, come on. I thought we dropped this." Scott sighed, handing Landon off to Taylor so he could talk to his mother.

"We did, but I'm just a little worried. This time last year, you asked me if you should pack it in and come home, remember?" Connie said gently. "And now, you're in love with your boss, and you're getting married."

"I know, Mom, but.... Mitchell is special. He doesn't see things like the rest of us. He's brilliant, Mom. How could I not fall in love with someone like him?" Scott sat at the breakfast table, across from Connie. That was the first time he'd said it aloud. The realisation of truth in those few simple words hit him like a truck.

"I can see how much you love him, baby. But you know I worry." Connie reached across the table to hold onto Scott's hand. "I love you, Scottie-bear. You know that, right?"

"Mom..." Scott groaned at the age-old nickname.

"Shush." Connie reprimanded lightly. "I'm looking out for you and you know it."

"I know, Mom. I love you, y'know."

"I know, sweetheart. Now, let's talk about this wedding."

\--

**MITCHELL**

"I'm sorry." Lauren blurted the second their feet hit the docks.

"What for?" Mitchell asked, and only a  _tiny_ part of his brain thought he was about to be murdered.

"For not believing you guys." Lauren admitted sheepishly.

"Huh?"

"I didn't believe you and Scott were actually going through with this. The whole getting-married thing. I thought it was some kind of con." Lauren laughed as though this was a hilarious situation.

"Yeah, no, it's real." Mitchell chuckled awkwardly.

"I know, I can see how much he means to you." Lauren nodded to herself.

"That obvious, huh?" Mitchell joked.

"Well, yes. The way you look at him? Especially this morning. It was as if he was the only person in the room." Lauren got a wistful look in her eyes at that.

"I had no idea he was so good with Landon." Mitchell changed the topic quickly.

"Yeah, he was there when Landon was born. It was just before he started working with you. The last time he was at home. Scott's the one who cut Landon's cord." Lauren smiled at the memory. "He practically bonded with the kid straight away. Didn't leave our sides for the rest of the night."

"Did you have Landon at a hospital?" Mitchell asked.

"Nope - home birth. Of course, we had a doctor and a couple of nurses there, to make sure everything went smoothly." Lauren said. "Can I tell you something? It's kind of secret now, but I feel like I can trust you."

"Yeah, sure, you can trust me." Mitchell nodded. Lauren took his hand for support and looked around before whispering.

"I'm pregnant."

The excited smile that broke out on Mitchell's face was completely genuine.

"Oh, my god! Really?!" Mitchell asked eagerly.

"Yeah! Two months." Lauren confided. "Nobody knows yet. I was going to tell Scott first, but he was the first to know about Landon, so I figured it's your turn."

"Lauren, I-"

"I want you to be the godparents. You and Scott." Lauren interrupted.

"Are you joking?!"

"Munchie, I'd never joke about this. You're part of the family now. If anything happens to me, I want to know my kids will be in safe hands. I trust Scott more than anyone, and Scott loves you more than anything. So, I want the two of you to be the godparents." Lauren said, grabbing both of Mitchell's hands now. Despite all that information, one thing was causing his brain to short-circuit.

"You called me Munchie?" Mitchell asked.

"Hm? Oh, oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I know how you are about nicknames and I just-" Lauren gasped.

"No, it's just that.... Well, it's been a really long time since someone gave me a nickname." Mitchell mumbled.

"Hey, that's okay. Well, now I've given you a nickname. You're Munchie to me, now." Lauren smiled, squeezing Mitchell's hands. "Hey, why don't you just shorten your name to Mitch? It's still professional, if that's what you're worried about?"

"Mitch..." Mitchell tried it out. "I like that." She smiled, and Lauren copied her expression.

"Okay,  _Mitch,_ then let's get back up to the house. Oh, and you can tell Scott about the baby if you want to. I'll wait to tell Mom until  _after_ the wedding." Lauren grinned. "Don't wanna give the poor woman a heart attack."

"Yeah, let's not kill off Connie before I get her recipe for cinnamon rolls." Mitch joked.

"Oh, you are a dream come true." Lauren laughed loudly, linking their arms together and walking back towards the house. "Hey, Nonna said you decided on a gown for the wedding tomorrow?"

"Yeah; I felt more comfortable in it." Mitch nodded. "Want to see it? Connie took a few photos in the shop."

"I'd love to."

Mitch pulled out his phone and whipped up the photos of him in his wedding gown, before handing the phone to Lauren.

"Oh, my god..." Lauren gaped. "Munchie, that is gorgeous on you! Screw writing, you should be a damn model!"

"Thanks, but I'm comfier behind a computer screen than in front of a camera." Mitch laughed.

"Uh huh." Lauren tutted. "Hey, speaking of writing; have you got anything of your own published?"

"No, not yet. I've published a lot of other people's work though, but my writing isn't really the novel kind."

"What kind, then?" Lauren asked as they reached the house's back door. Mitch opened it for Lauren and followed behind her.

"I, uh, I write songs."

"No way." Lauren grinned. "You are just full of surprises, you know that, Mitchie?"

"So, I've been told." Mitch laughed dryly. 

///

**(Warning: Death mention - brief, non-descriptive, past event reference)**

Scott was on the couch with Landon, reading a book aloud to the small child. Taylor and Connie had gone into town to buy what they needed for the reception dinner. Rick was at work. Nonna was puttering about in the greenhouse, fixing things up neatly. That left Mitch and Lauren, holed up in Mitch's room, surrounded by a pile of Polaroids they were still adding to.

"Smile!" Lauren shouted happily, snapping the button just as Mitch jumped around with his best superstar smile.

"This is ridiculous! God, what's Scott gonna think of all these?" Mitch laughed, and Lauren managed to capture that moment as well.

"He's gonna think 'Wow, my husband is the most gorgeous person ever.' I know it." Lauren assured him.

"I haven't had this much fun in so long." Mitch grinned tiredly, flopping down onto the bed beside Lauren.

"I know how you feel." Lauren agreed, laying back as well.

"Yeah, being a mom must be hard." Mitch said. "But Landon is a total peach!"

"Yeah, you try living with the kid 24/7. He's just like Scott was at that age. Loud and stubborn, but happy and silly." Lauren smiled proudly.

"You love them both a lot, don't you?” Mitch said, not really  _asking_ since he knew the answer.

"Of course." Lauren confirmed. "They're the best boys in the world."

"I'm gonna take care of him, Lauren." Mitch promised. "Scott, I mean."

"I know you will. I'm glad he found you. I haven't seen him this happy in years." Lauren gripped Mitch's hand again.

"What about Alex?" Mitch asked, a slight note of jealously managing to worm its way in.

"Well... High school sweethearts, y'know. Cute, but it didn't last past school. Scott wanted to travel. Alex wanted to stay and become the good little housewife, with three kids and a picket fence. Scott didn't want that back then." Lauren said. "He was happy then, but he's happier now. I can see it."

"You think he really loves me, L?"

"I think he would go to the ends of the earth for you, and still want to keep going, just to make you happy. Because that's the kind of guy my brother is." Lauren assured. "So yes, I do think he really loves you."

"Thanks." Mitch smiled. "Y'know, you remind me of someone."

"Really? Who?"

"My best friend, Kirstin. We grew up together in Texas. She was practically family. I loved her a lot." Mitch spoke, his voice slowly growing sad.

"Did you tell her about the wedding?" Lauren asked gently.

"No. She, um... she died when we were seventeen." Mitch swallowed the lump in his throat. He hadn't talked about Kirstin in so long... "It was late, and we were racing each other back to her house from mine. We lived a street over from each other. She was winning; ran out ahead."

"Mitch, you don't have to-"

"No, I do. I haven't so much as said her name since I left Texas. I need to get this out." Mitch said, scrunching his eyes closed. He felt Lauren squeeze his hand, and took that as his cue to keep talking. "She ran out ahead of me, across the street. A drunk driver pulled around the corner at the same time. She, uh... she got hit. She was gone before I got to her." Mitch gripped Lauren's hand tightly. "The driver took off. The cops never found the jackass. I left the next month."

"Oh, Mitchie.... Honey, I'm so sorry." Lauren pulled him up into her arms, hugging him tightly.

"She should be here. She should be giving me hell for shaving my hair because she can't do anything with it like this. She should be having the time of her life here, helping us sort out this wedding." Mitch spoke into Lauren's shoulder, eyes clamped shut and his bottom lip trembling. Finally, the dam broke and he cried, ugly, heaving sobs, soaking Lauren's shirt with tears.

"You're okay, Mitchie, I've got you." Lauren murmured to him softly. "You're okay."

\--

Downstairs, Landon had been put down for his afternoon nap, and Scott stretched out his long frame, fingertips nearly grazing the ceiling. He headed upstairs, knocking lightly at the door. When no answer came, Scott pushed the door open as quietly as possible, peeking inside.

On the bed, amid a mess of photographs, was Mitchell; his head laying on Lauren's leg, and clearly asleep. Lauren saw Scott and motioned for him to come in. As Scott moved closer, he could see the tear stains on Mitchell's face, and a matching stain on Lauren's shoulder.

"Lauren? What happened?" Scott whispered.

"Not my story to tell, Scooter." Lauren answered. "Come pick him up though, my leg is going numb."

Scott moved and scooped Mitchell up into his arms. Mitchell curled into his warmth, fingertips clutching at his shirt.

"God, he loves you so much." Lauren smiled at the sight.

"I know." Scott smiled too, despite knowing it was a lie.

"I'm gonna clear these photos up so you can put him down." Lauren said. "I think he likes his naps."

"Well, he is a baby." Scott joked.

"Yeah,  _your_ baby." Lauren teased.

"Shush." Scott blushed, but smiled all the same.

Lauren cleared away the mess on the bed, and pulled the covers down so Scott could tuck Mitchell in. But when Scott moved to put him down, Mitchell whimpered and gripped onto Scott's shirt harder, pulling him down with him.

"Looks like Mitch doesn't want you to leave him." Lauren smiled knowingly.

"Yeah, looks like it. Guess I'll have to take a nap too, then." Scott said, grinning at his sister. Lauren rolled her eyes, but still pulled the covers up over the happy couple once Scott had found a way to get into bed while carrying Mitch.

"I'll come wake you guys in a couple hours." Lauren smiled.

"Shut up." Scott grinned. "Get out, I wanna take a nap with my fiancé."

"Alright, I'm going!" Lauren laughed, leaving the room, and closing the door behind her.

Scott, propped slightly up against the headboard, smiled down at where Mitch had curled into his side. He shuffled down slightly so they were both laying comfortably, and was slightly surprised when Mitch's grip on him tightened and Mitch cuddled even closer. Scott turned to his side, so he was facing Mitch, and wrapped an arm around the smaller person. When Mitch let out a happy sigh and snuggled as close as was possible, Scott smiled and let himself doze off.

\--

Their peace only seemed to last seconds, before it was being rudely interrupted by a little body crawling over them above the covers.

Scott woke first, looking around until he spotted Landon sitting in a dip in the covers between Scott and Mitch's stomachs.

"Uncles, Mommy says you have to wake up now." Landon stated importantly.

"Five more minutes?" Mitch mumbled out, alerting Scott to his conscious presence.

"Mommy says now." Landon insisted.

"Okay, okay." Mitch detached himself from Scott, and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"Uncle Scooter, your turn now." Landon said, poking Scott in the stomach.

"Okay, all right, see, I'm up." Scott said around a yawn.

"Good. Mommy says you slept for  _ages!"_ Landon said, waving his little hands around for emphasis.

"Did we?" Scott asked. "Oops."

"Go tell Mommy we're awake now, okay, angel?" Mitch requested, tapping Landon's nose lightly. 

"Okay Uncle Mitchie."

With that, Landon scrambled off the bed and out the door, looking for Lauren.

"You're good with him." Scott noted.

"So are you." Mitch replied. Subconsciously, he shuffled closer to Scott, seeking that warmth he had just been enveloped by.

"Y'know, he genuinely does like you." Scott said.

"Good, I'm glad," Mitch let the words slip out before he thought about them, and he was slinking back into Scott's embrace despite the lack of an audience to convince. Scott didn't push him away like he expected, though.

"You wanna get up?" Scott asked quietly.

"Not really." Mitch answered.

"You know if we don't, they'll send Landon back in. Or worse. My mother."

"Oh no, feel that, I'm practically quaking in terror." Mitch mumbled sarcastically.

"Ha-ha, very funny." Scott rolled his eyes at Mitch's antics.

"Guys, come on! Mom's making dinner." Lauren yelled up the stairs.

"Food beckons..." Scott decided, retracting himself from the warmth of the bed.

"Ugh, I guess." Mitch groaned but followed his lead, crawling out of the comfortable blankets.

\--

Before dinner, Nonna had stood up and delivered a very sweet speech, blessing the upcoming celebrations. It had left tears in Mitch's eyes, and he and Scott had both gotten up to hug the kind woman.

Now, midway through the meal, Rick decided to say his piece.

"I know, I haven't been the most accepting this weekend. But none of you can say my concerns were unfounded. Before this weekend, we'd heard nothing but bitter complaints from Scott about his job. Then suddenly, he shows up here with a fiancé unexpectedly." Rick shook his head as though he was disappointed. Mitch felt Scott tensing beside him, and took his hand without even thinking about it.

"But now, I know. I know that Scott has found a love as pure and true as anyone else's. I know that Mitchell has changed him for the better. And I know the two of them will be very happy together for the rest of their marriage." Rick concluded. Then he turned to the two of them. "Before y'all go to bed, would you mind coming for a quick walk with me? Got something I'd like to show you before the big day."

"Sure, we'll be there."

\--

After dinner, Rick lead Scott and Mitch to the cabin on the back of their property.

"Don't tell your mother about this, you hear me?" Rick warned before opening the door.

There, standing in the middle of a little log cabin in Sitka, Alaska, was Avi Kaplan.

"What did you do?" Scott turned on Rick immediately.

"Made a negotiation. You give Mr Kaplan a statement, admitting this is a fraud, and he'll get you off the prison sentence. Mitchell will obviously be deported indefinitely, but really, what's more important?" Rick said, pleading with Scott.

"You're sick. You'd let Mitchell get deported just because you don't want me marrying a male?" Scott asked incredulously.

"No, I'd let Mitchell get deported because I don't want my son marrying a con artist." Rick said firmly.

"Well, you're all out of luck there. You want a statement? Here's your damn statement. I've worked for Mitchell Grassi for four years. We started dating two years ago. Then I asked him to marry me and he said yes. I love him, and I'm not going to call off the wedding because you don't agree with the gender of my partner." Scott said angrily. "Let's go."

He guided Mitch out of the cabin and led him back up to the house.

\--

They were forcibly separated that night by tradition and Nonna Louise. But this meant Scott got to sleep in the spare bedroom down the hall, in an actual bed for once. They said goodnight, awkwardly shuffling around each other in the doorway to Mitch's room, before Scott remembered how to act and leaned in to kiss Mitch's cheek.

Later, once they were both in their separate beds, Mitch let his fingers ghost over where Scott's lips had been just moments ago.

Mitch drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face, completely unaware that Scott had done the same.   
  
///

Mitch was woken the next morning by Lauren, Taylor, and Connie, who quickly ushered him about as they got him ready for the Big Event. 

Across the hall, Nonna Louise was pushing around a very anxious Scott as he did the same. 

Mitch stepped out of the shower, face, arms, legs, and chest freshly shaven and moisturized. He put on clean underwear, and stepped out to be made-over by his soon-to-be sisters and mother in law. 

Lauren fussed over his hair, trying to find the perfect style. Taylor helped him pick out his makeup for the day, and Connie fetched his gown and accessories from the wardrobe. 

"You're gonna be gorgeous, Mitchie." Lauren assured him. "Gonna take his breath away." 

\--

Scott stood at the altar, surrounded by fragrant flowers, and smiling faces of the guests. He saw Avi sitting in the back row, but he ignored him pointedly. Any minute now, the music would start, and he would marry Mitchell Grassi. 

For life. Because Scott had decided. This wasn't just a fraud to him anymore.

The music began, and the entire crowd fell silent and turned to face the entrance of the lush greenhouse. A few moments later, and little Landon toddled down the aisle, dropping flower petals on the ground as he walked. Behind him came Taylor and Lauren, in matching baby-blue gowns. They took their places on the left side of the altar, behind where Mitchell would soon (hopefully) be standing. Landon was told to stand behind Scott, but he skipped over to his mother's side instead, making the crowd chuckle. 

Then the music swelled, and the crowd seemed to hold their breath. Or maybe it was just Scott holding his? 

Or maybe, it was all the air being sucked out of his body as he laid eyes on Mitchell. Nobody had told him Mitch had picked a gown, and Scott felt the urge to physically pick his jaw up off the floor at the sight. 

He looked magnificent. Peeking over the neckline of the gown was Mitch's Deadmau5 tattoo, and his arms bore more visual evidence of his personality. Scott was sure he had never looked so beautiful, and he had seen Mitch at every point of the day, in every mood. 

_I love you._ The thought caught him off guard, and thankfully shocked him out of the trance he'd fallen into, staring at his boss.  _Boss._ The word reminded him bitterly of what this really was. He caught sight of Avi in the crowd again, and felt the guilt twist his stomach tighter. 

By now, Mitchell was almost to the altar. The last few feet, he was accompanied by little Landon, who had run out to grab his new Uncle's hand. 

Then, he was beside Scott, and Scott had guilty tears in his eyes. 

Scott took Mitch's hands in his own, and blinked rapidly to dry his eyes before the tears could start to fall. 

He didn't hear half of what the minister was saying, but then came his line, the one he dreaded and lived for. 

"Do you, Scott Richard Hoying, take Mitchell Coby Michael Grassi, to be your lawfully wedded husband?" 

Scott swallowed thickly and answered with his heart. 

"I do." 

"And do  _you,_ Mitchell Coby Michael Grassi, take Scott Richard Hoying to be  _your_ lawfully wedded husband?" 

Mitch looked up and met Scott's gaze and Scott saw the entire plan fall to pieces with the tears that fell from Mitch's eyes. 

"No." 

\--

"No?" The minister echoed. There were sounds of confusion from the crowd, and a few low laughs. Scott's neck burned with embarrassment as Mitch pulled his hands away. 

"No." Mitch repeated. "Because this is a lie. All of it. Scott and I aren't in love. Truth is, we can't stand each other. But I was going to be sent back to Italy. I was going to lose the one thing I had left; my job. So, Scott and I made a deal. Well,  _I_ made a deal, and blackmailed him to go along with it." Mitchell confessed. "I told him that if he didn't do this, I wouldn't publish his book. It was cruel, and I am so sorry. I'm sorry to all of you. I lied to you all, and I made Scott lie to you." 

Outraged whispers broke out in the crowd, but Scott was frozen in shock, looking down at his hands. 

"It's best if I just go. I'm so sorry." Mitch said, this time speaking directly to Scott, but he still didn't look up. He didn't want to. He didn't want to see Mitch walk away. 

But of course, Scott's always had the worst timing. When he unfroze and looked up, away from the altar, it was just in time to see Mitch walk out of the greenhouse. 

Just in time to see him walk out of Scott's life.  
  
///

**MITCH**

I walked out. I left my heart at the altar beside that stupid giant man, and I walked out. I was hurting him by being there, and I knew it would eventually get out somehow. Whether it be from our own slip up, or from Rick's unstable ego, the truth would've gotten out. 

So, I had no choice. I had to leave. 

As I walked away from the family I could've had, I nodded to Avi. He had been right. This was a fraud. I just hoped that my confession had been enough to keep Scott and his family out of trouble. 

"So, what happens now?" I asked him as we left. 

"Since you're coming voluntarily now, it all becomes really civil. Once you land back in Los Angeles, you'll have 48 hours to leave the country. Simple." Avi said, jotting down something on the clipboard he carried seemingly everywhere. 

"Great." 

\-- 

My plane touched down in LAX at 10 PM, and I fought off the urge to cry again. I had 48 hours left in LA. In America in general. 

First place I went? Home. I needed to pack first, then go to the office to pack that up too. I got home and within five minutes of my front door closing, there was a knock. 

I looked through the peephole first, before swinging the door open. 

"Gus, hey." I greeted the man at my door. 

"Hey, babe. What's got you so blue? Weren't you off to elope this weekend?" Gus smiled, trying to be comforting. 

"Yeah, but I guess I'll be getting deported instead." I shrugged. 

"Shit, no, seriously?!" Gus exclaimed. 

"Yep. 48 hours." I said. 

"Last night in town, then?" Gus offered. 

"No, Gus, I'm sorry, but I can't." 

"That's all right -need help packing?" 

"Yeah that’d be nice. Thanks, Gus." 

"No problem."

We packed everything I wanted to take with me - which mostly meant my clothing and shoes and accessories. The furniture and whatever else could be sold for all I cared. I was being kicked out of the one place I finally felt comfortable and that wasn't something I was all too happy about. Gus could feel it, and eventually left me to my own devices. Tomorrow while I was at the office, Gus would be in charge of putting my boxes somewhere safe until I could get set up in Italy. 

I didn't sleep that night. I received an email from the immigration office, informing me of the legal parameters of my deportation. 

The next morning, I forced myself to get into gear. I rushed through breakfast and took a shower before heading to the office. 

Just my luck, that every single person I've ever fired, insulted, annoyed or even  _looked at_ were all at the offices today. 

Just my luck, that the single person I  _wanted_ to see, was nowhere in sight. 

\--

**SCOTT**

He honestly couldn't believe it. Mitch was really going to be kicked out of the country, and he didn't even realize he'd taken Scott's heart with him when he walked away. 

"Scottie, what happened?" Connie asked, but of course, Rick had to butt in before Scott could explain. 

"Scott got roped into committing fraud, Connie. He got  _conned._  I told you that Grassi fellow was no good!" 

"Shut up about Mitch, Dad." Scott snapped. "I love him, damn it. You don't get to talk about him like that."

"I'm your father-"

"So, what? You don't get to keep bossing me around anymore. I'm an adult, Dad."

"With the naivety of a child!"

"Why, because I  _helped_ someone I care about!?"

"No, you idiot, because now, all these people have heard what you'll do for a bloody publishing deal. What are they gonna think of our family now, huh?"

"Wow. I see how concerned you are now. For your companies. For your  _businesses._ Not for your  _son._ The one who just got left at the  _altar._ I see where your priorities lay now, Rick." Connie snapped. "You're the one who invited that immigration officer, aren't you?" 

"I had to. Scott was making a huge mistake-" 

"And what if this had been real. What then, Rick? You would've looked like an idiot. Then what would people think?" Connie said angrily. "You have just lost all hope of him  _ever_ trusting you again, and I hope you're proud of yourself." 

"Scooter, come on." Lauren snapped Scott out of his trance. "We're going to the airport. Maybe we can catch them before they leave." 

But alas, luck was not with the Hoying family. They reached the airport just as Mitchell's plane took off, and Scott fell to his knees miserably, getting ready to prepare his heart for the long healing process. 

How could Mitch just leave like that? It didn't seem possible. Four years. Four years, and for what? A broken heart, and the desire to punch every idiot who every came up with immigration laws. 

No. There had to be more than that. This could not be how it ended for them. Because if Scott knew one thing, it was that he fucking  **loved**  that annoying, stubborn, sarcastic,  _bitchy_ boss of his, and he was going to get him back. 

\---

Scott landed in LA and headed straight for the office, knowing Mitch would spend her last day in the country at work. He stepped out of the elevator on their floor at last, and used his superior height to his advantage. 

_There._

Bossing Frank around, as usual. 

"Mitch!" 

\--

Mitch spun at the sound of his name being shouted in that familiar baritone. It took less than two seconds to spot the man in question. 

"Scott?" 

"Oh, I am  _so_ mad at you." Scott stormed over. "I just got left at the altar. Did you know that?" 

"I'm-" 

"I know, you're sorry, but guess what? Sorry doesn't fix the fact that the man I love just walked out on our wedding." 

"What?" 

"You heard me." 

"Man you-"

"Love, yes, I love you, you stubborn little shit." 

"Wow, so romantic." Mitch sassed, trying to breathe despite having his heart firmly lodged in his throat. 

"Shut it. You are a stubborn little shit. And annoying, and god, did you know you  _talk_ in your sleep? Loudly, I might add." Scott ranted. "But I have never been so fucking in love with anybody before, and you should know something about me: I'm pretty damn stubborn too." 

"I'm being deported in a day." Mitch whispered. 

"I don't care, that's still one day to fix this." 

"Fix  _what,_ Scott? I need to finish packing." 

"No, you need to stand there and listen." Scott said. "I  _love_ you, got that? That means, I want to stay with you. Which means in turn-" Scott knelt, taking an old battered ring Nonna had given him from his pocket. "I know it's not new or shiny, but it means the same thing. I love you, Mitchell Grassi. So, marry me." 

"Ask me nicely." Mitch quipped. 

"I'm taking that as a yes." Scott stood, foregoing the ring to lean in and kiss Mitch thoroughly at last.

"Hey, Beanstalk?" 

"Yeah, Mitchie?" 

"I love you, too."

\--END--

 


End file.
